The Darkness
by RedQ
Summary: Joe struggles with the impossible task of raising a traumatized kid. Even well into his teenage years, Barry Allen still struggles with his nightmares, and his obsession with his mother's case is starting to worry his foster father more and more (Barry is sixteen in this, not eleven)
1. The Screams

**I feel like Joe doesn't get a lot of credit for all that he did for Barry. It couldn't have been easy raising a kid who had been through a trauma like that. We all know how obsessed Barry is with his tragic past in the show. If that's him at age 25, I wonder how bad it was when he was going through high school. One of the things I admire most about Barry is how he hasn't allowed his past to dim his soul. He's so full of light and happiness, but at the same time, he's carrying this huge burden all the time. Really, the more I think about Barry's adolescence, the more impressed I am that he turned out so normal.**

 **I consider this fic canon for all of my stories—and in my mind, for the show, itself. I make a lot of references to things that happen in this fic in my other stories, just so you all know.**

 **The Screams**

Joe had only been asleep for an hour when he heard the screams. They were familiar to him, being a common sound that regularly issued from the sixteen year old's bedroom that was next to his. Joe looked at the clock. A little after midnight. He heard Barry scream again.

Joe quickly but calmly climbed out of bed and made his way over to Barry's room. His door was open, and the teenager was thrashing in his sleep as he called out again.

"Mom! Please! Mom!"

"Barry," Joe said in a soothing yet loud voice as he sat on the edge of Barry's bed next to him. He placed a hand on Barry's shoulder to try to shake him awake. The kid was drenched in sweat.

"Barry, wake up!"

"Please, don't kill her! Please!" he whimpered.

"Barry!" Joe said a little more forcefully, shaking both of his shoulders now. With a gasp, Barry woke up, his eyes snapping open quickly. He didn't try to sit up, but instead laid there breathing heavily as he looked up at his foster father.

"Joe," he breathed, wiping his eyes. His face had been covered with tears mingled with sweat.

"It's okay, son," Joe said, "I've got you. It's okay."

Barry took a deep breath and wiped the remaining tears and sweat from his face before sitting up in bed. He tried in vain to stop the shaking of his hands, and when he failed at this, he put them under the blankets out of sight. It didn't matter though. Joe had already seen. He also noticed that Barry was still breathing heavily.

"Where are your pills?" Joe asked Barry quietly. Barry looked at him with weary eyes.

"I don't need them, Joe," he insisted, "I'm fine."

"Where are they, Barry?" Joe asked again in a firm voice.

Barry sighed. In defeat, he pointed absently at his nightstand. Joe promptly opened the drawer of Barry's nightstand to pull out the little orange prescription bottle.

"Joe, I'm fine," Barry said again, his breathing starting to improve.

Joe ignored him though as he popped off the lid and tipped a little blue pill into the palm of his hand. He held it out to Barry with a serious yet sympathetic look on his face. Barry looked wearily back at him, but he obeyed as he took the pill out of Joe's hand and placed it in his mouth, chasing it with a few mouthfuls of water. Joe watched him sadly as he placed the glass of water back on his nightstand.

"It's getting worse, Bar," Joe said worriedly.

"I'm alright," Barry assured him, "It's just been a stressful week. That's all."

"It's been more than just a week," Joe said lightly, "It's been getting worse over the last three weeks now."

Barry didn't respond to that. He just looked down at his lap as Joe surveyed him with worried eyes.

"Is it the time of year?" Joe asked quietly, "You seem to always get worse this time of year."

It was true. Barry had been with them for five years now, and that had been enough time for Joe to notice the pattern. Barry's nightmares always worsened around the holidays, near the time when his mother had died. Barry usually didn't need his anti-anxiety meds very often, but this time of the year, Joe found himself visiting the pharmacy for refills a little more frequently.

"I just have a lot of finals," Barry answered, "I'll be better once they're over with and we go on winter break. I'm starting to regret taking all these AP classes."

Barry tried to smile, but it wasn't very convincing. Joe knew better than to press him though. When Barry doesn't want to talk about something, there usually wasn't anything that could be done to get him to open up. He was just stubborn that way.

"Okay, Bar," Joe said in an unconvinced voice, "Just know that if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

Barry nodded gratefully. With a sigh, Joe stood up from where he had been perched on the edge of Barry's bed. He set the bottle of lorazepam back on Barry's nightstand and took a few steps to stand in the doorway, where he paused.

"Do you want me to stay with you for a while?" Joe asked, "Until you fall back asleep?"

"I'm okay," Barry said, laying back on the pillow again, "Goodnight, Joe."

"Goodnight, Barry," Joe said sadly.

He left the door open and the hall light on as he left.

Being sixteen years old now, Barry Allen was much too proud to admit that he wanted the light left on, but Joe always remembered how terrified of the dark Barry had been when he first moved in with them when he was eleven. Barry would never admit to it, but the dark still made him uncomfortable in the aftermath of one of his night terrors, and having some source of light made it slightly easier for him to fall back asleep.

As Joe got back into his own bed, he couldn't help but worry about the teenager. Barry was starting to get bad again, and even though he seemed perfectly fine during his waking hours, Joe knew Barry was struggling internally. What Joe didn't know was what to do about it. He wanted to help the boy who had been through so much, but he didn't know how he was supposed to do that. Barry had seen things that no one his age (or any age for that matter) should ever have to see. He had been living with them for five years, yet sometimes Joe still felt like he wasn't equipped to deal with something like this. Barry's situation was far from ordinary, and Joe was doing the best he could to help the kid.

His mother had been murdered right in front of him. That's a lot for any person to deal with, especially a child. Barry had every right to be at least a little messed up in the head from it, and although five years may seem like a long time, it often still felt very fresh for the teenager. It seemed like every milestone, every important moment in Barry's life—his first dance, transitioning into high school, learning to drive, going on his first date—all of it was tainted by the bitter fact that his parents weren't there to share it with him.

Joe just wanted what was best for Barry. He was responsible for this amazing human being who had seen so much tragedy despite his young age, and Joe just didn't want to mess this up. He didn't want to do or say something that would make Barry worse. Barry could grow up to be an incredible person, but it wasn't going to be easy. He had to overcome all of the darkness in his life in order to get there, and Joe wanted to do everything in his power to help Barry through all of it.


	2. Flash a Smile

**Flash a Smile**

"You're late, Mr. Allen."

"Sorry, Mr. Meyers," Barry said apologetically as he took his seat at his desk, "It won't happen again."

"Let's not lie now, Mr. Allen," Mr. Meyers said, giving Barry a half smile.

He couldn't be mad at the kid. He was one of his favorite students after all. Barry just smiled apologetically at him as he pulled opened his biology textbook.

"Where were you?" his friend, Cam, whispered to him once their teacher had resumed lecture.

"Slept through my alarm," Barry muttered dismissively.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," his buddy said with a laugh.

Barry just shrugged and returned his attention back to Mr. Meyers. It was true though. Barry had been so exhausted lately that he had been sleeping right through his alarm, making him chronically late for school. His frequent tardiness had already landed him in detention twice now. In fact, he would be serving a detention after school today.

Within a few minutes of being in the classroom, it started. Barry felt something light hit the back of his head. He didn't turn to see what it was and who had thrown it. He already knew. Tony Woodward and his punk-ass friends often made a game out of throwing bits of rolled up paper at Barry in class. He knew they were only trying to get a rise out of them, so Barry knew better than to humor them by retaliating or getting angry.

Still, as Barry felt two more bits of paper ricochet off his back, he couldn't stop his blood from boiling. He was so not in the mood for this today. He had woken up not once but _twice_ from his nightmares last night, and his resulting exhaustion had him on edge. Barry heard the boys behind him snigger and whisper to each other just before he felt another rolled up wad of paper bounce off the back of his head. Barry clenched his fists tighter in anger, but he didn't rise. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they had got to him.

He just waited torturously for the bell to ring so he could get the hell out of there. It really sucked because Barry would have really enjoyed biology if it hadn't been for them. Instead, he found himself waiting anxiously for this hour of the day to be over with. Barry's fists didn't unclench until the bell rang, and he was finally able to pack up his books and leave.

"You dropped something, Allen," Tony sneered at him as he walked out of the classroom.

His friends all laughed. Barry waited until they were gone to pick up the bits of paper on the ground. It killed him to do it, but he wasn't going to just leave a mess on the floor for Mr. Meyers or the janitor to clean up. He was grateful to his friend when Camron stooped down to help him.

"Ignore them, Barry," he said to him.

"Always do," Barry muttered, as they threw all the paper in the garbage and exited the classroom.

Once they had reached their lockers, Barry changed the subject.

"I wish I hadn't missed the beginning of class. It was an interesting lecture."

"You can borrow my notes if you want to," Cam said, holding out his notebook.

"Thanks," Barry said gratefully, taking the notebook from him, "All of this stuff about different poisons and how it the body reacts to them is so cool. I'm usually more into physics and chemistry, but biology has been surprisingly interesting."

"I don't know," Cam said, "I don't see how we're ever going to use any of this. It's not like people get poisoned all the time."

"You never know," Barry said enthusiastically, "What would you do if you found someone unconscious and you had to identify the poison and treat it?"

"Um, I'd call an ambulance," Cam said with a laugh.

Barry just rolled his eyes and laughed.

"I think it's still interesting and useful to know."

"You would," Cam laughed, "Guess that's why you're Mr. Meyers' favorite."

"Am not," Barry scoffed.

"Dude, you totally are," Matt, their other friend, said as he approached them, "Him and just about all the other teachers at this school."

Barry just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," Cam added, "I swear Mrs. Faber is like in love with you."

"Okay, whatever," Barry said sarcastically, grabbing his books and closing his locker, "I have to get to class now. I can't really afford any more detentions for tardiness. Joe would kill me."

"Kay, see you at lunch, man," Matt said, and Barry's two friends both walked off to their study hall, while Barry went to his AP Calc class.

It sucked that none of his friends took his AP classes with him. It was only seniors in those classes, and Barry was the only sophomore who was taking AP calculus, chemistry, and physics. The classes were incredibly interesting, but he often got lonely in them. At least there was no Tony Woodward to deal with during this part of the day. Tony was in remedial for most of his classes. The only classes he and Barry had to take together were biology and gym class.

When Barry made it to lunch, he quickly found his friends at their usual table and sat down by them. He spotted Iris across the cafeteria with her friends. She and Barry often sat together at lunch. Usually one of them would move over from their table to sit with the other one's friends, or the two groups would simply sit together. Today, however, they both sat separate from each other.

Iris knew when Barry wanted his space. She always heard him when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night, and she knew to always give him some space the day after it happened. He was usually quiet and wanted to be left alone, even though he was too polite to say it.

Even now, as Barry's friends talked, Barry hardly listened to the conversation. His mind kept reverting back to his nightmares from the night before. It was usually the same one of the night that his mother had died, but there were sometimes different renditions of the traumatic event. Sometimes in his dream he tries to save her but fails. A lot of the time, he isn't flashed two blocks away but stays there to witness the whole thing, his subconscious imagination filling in the blank parts of the memories of his trauma. Sometimes his dad is also killed by the man in yellow or sometimes even himself. The worst version though is the one where he is the one driving the knife through his mother's heart with his own hands. That one always broke his heart the most.

"Barry," his friend said to him loudly. Barry snapped out of his morbid thoughts and looked at Matt in reply.

"Dude, I said your name like five times," he said incredulously.

"Oh, leave him alone," Cam said with a laugh, "He's probably just thinking about his precious Becky."

Barry rolled his eyes at his friends' teasing. He and Becky weren't even dating. He couldn't really even say they were friends. They didn't actually know each other that well. They had barely even spoken to each other, yet everyone seemed to think there was something going on between them.

"Actually, I was just thinking about how badly I'm going to crush you in Madden tonight," Barry joked with an easy laugh.

He surprised even himself with how easily he was able to fake a laugh and appear as if nothing was wrong. He was glad Iris wasn't at their table right now. Only she would have detected the hollowness in his voice or the falseness of his forced smile.

"I'm sick of playing Madden," Cam whined, "We should play Call of Duty tonight instead. I just got the 2006 version. Call of Duty 3!"

"Wait, what about Preston's party tonight?" Matt said, "I thought we were all going to that."

"Can't," Barry said flatly, "Joe has that new alarm system on the house now. Iris and I can't sneak out anymore."

"For real?" Matt said with an exasperated look, "Come on, dude. You and I both know that you're smart enough to figure out a way around that."

Barry sighed. Iris had said the same thing to him, and she had been practically begging for him to get the security code for her.

"Fine," he said in defeat, "I'll figure it out."

"Yes!" Matt said in triumph, "That's what I'm talking about! It'll be a much better Friday night than staying in playing video games."

"I can't go," Cam said sadly, "I'm still grounded, remember?"

"So just do what Barry's doing," Matt said simply, "Sneak out."

"I can't," Cam insisted, "If my mom catches me again, she said she'd take away my PS2. Sorry, guys. I'm not gonna risk it."

"Suit yourself then," Matt said with a shrug, "I guess Barry and I will just have to party it up without you then."

He slapped Barry on the back, and Barry gave him a weak smile. Barry wasn't much of a partier to begin with. He would go out every now and then, and he had a lot of fun, but he wasn't really the type to go out every weekend or anything. If he was being honest, Barry wasn't really looking forward to going out tonight. He wasn't really in the partying mood, and he was still tired from getting so little sleep the night before.

Barry went through his afternoon classes in a haze. Iris, who was taking English 10 with him, noticed how withdrawn he was. He clearly wasn't paying any attention in class, and it especially showed when Mrs. Faber called on him and he didn't even respond.

"Mr. Allen," she said again. Barry snapped his head up and looked at her.

"S-sorry," he stammered sheepishly, "What was the question?"

She looked mildly irritated, but she patiently restated the question for him.

"What do you think Holden Caulfield means when he calls everyone around him phonies?"

"Um," Barry stalled as he tried to remember the book, "I think he's sees everyone as being fake and insincere. He only sees the worst in people, and calling them phonies is his way of dismissing them before really getting to know them."

"Excellent answer, Mr. Allen," Mrs. Faber praised him fondly, "You may not always pay attention or be on time, but you always do the reading."

Barry smiled sheepishly at her. When the teacher went back to talking about The Catcher in the Rye, Iris tapped on Barry's shoulder from where she sat in her desk behind his. He turned around to look at her.

"Are you okay?" she whispered worriedly.

"I'm fine," Barry said automatically, "Just not looking forward to detention today."

Iris nodded understandingly but was still looking at him with a worried expression. Even after he had turned back around, she stared at the back of his head, worrying. She knew he was having a rough week. That's what four nights in a row of nightmares did to someone. They weren't normally this frequent, and Iris didn't know what had triggered them to suddenly get this bad. Something else had to be upsetting Barry. His nightmares were the symptom, not the problem.

It was December.

That had to be it. Barry hated winter. It reminded him too much of that night. His mother had died on January 18th, right after the holidays. It wasn't a particularly happy time of year for Barry. Iris just hoped he would cheer up when Christmas came around.

…..

Gym class was Barry's own personal version of hell. He actually wasn't completely hopeless when it came to the physical stuff. He wasn't particularly athletically inclined, but Barry was a damn good runner. Track and cross country were the only sports he seemed to excel at, but neither of those were currently in season at the moment.

It wasn't even the physical part of gym that Barry hated though. It was the fact that he had to take it with Tony Woodward and his friends. Throwing paper at Barry in biology was nothing compared to what they did to him in gym class. They were constantly trying to trip him, constantly going out of their way to be unnecessarily rough with him, whether it was tackling him too hard during the "flag" football unit or elbowing him in the face or the ribs during the basketball unit. Not to mention all the shit they pulled in the locker room. Barry had just about had enough of all of it.

Barry was way too exhausted today to fully participate in gym class. He figured that's why he was getting a C in the class. The PE teacher felt like he was never fully giving it his all, which if Barry was being honest with himself, he probably wasn't. He was cranky and exhausted, and he had a hard time making himself care about gym class with everything else that was going on in his life. Really, it was a challenge lately just to make himself care about _anything_.

By the time gym class was over (and Barry had a few new bruises thanks to Tony), Barry wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out for a couple hours. He couldn't though. He still had detention to serve. Detention wasn't completely terrible. Thankfully today was one of the few days when Tony didn't have detention. Barry was thankful for this stroke of luck, seeing as most of the time when he served a detention it was made even worse by the fact that Tony and his friends were regulars in detention.

Unfortunately, staying late for detention also meant that Barry had to walk home. He and Iris both shared a car that Joe had got for them, and she had offered to wait for him or to come pick him up after, but he told her not to worry about it. He didn't really want to be alone in a car with her at the moment anyways. He knew she would try to pry and figure out what was going on with him, and he didn't feel like answering twenty questions right now. Not after the long day he had just had (and even longer night).

Their house wasn't very far from Central City High, but it always took Barry a long time to walk home. He always had to take the long way. The shortest route, the one that made the most sense, was to take Adams Street, but Barry could never walk that way. No, it was not because of bullies. He couldn't go down Adams Street because that was the street that he used to live on when he was a kid. Barry didn't think he could bear to walk past his childhood home again. It bothered him enough that he still lived so close to it. To walk past it, to see the house again for himself, was more than Barry could handle. He hadn't been anywhere near that place since that night, and Barry didn't ever intend to go back there again. He revisited the place enough in his nightmares every night.

When Barry finally got home, it was to find Iris sitting on the living room couch, her laptop sitting in her lap. She looked up at him when he entered.

"Hey, Bar," she said cheerfully. Barry was slightly irked to hear a hint of pity and worry in her voice, "How was detention?"

"Not terrible," Barry muttered dismissively, heading for the stairs, "I think I'm going to go lay down and take a nap now."

Iris gave him an understanding look.

"Okay," she said quietly, doing an even poorer job at hiding the concern in her voice.

Barry usually only took after school naps when he was wiped out from track or cross country practice. He would come home, eat half the kitchen, and then pass out for an hour or two. But he didn't have those afterschool practices this time of year. The only other time he took naps like this was when his nightmares had gotten so bad that he was chronically sleep deprived and needed to catch up on sleep.

An hour after Barry had disappeared up the stairs to lie down, her father got home.

"Where's Barry?" he asked her immediately.

"Upstairs sleeping," she answered quietly.

She and her father both shared a knowing look.

"Dad, what's going on with him?"

"Don't you worry about it," he said dismissively, "Barry's just going through some stuff right now. He'll be okay."

"Dad, please," Iris said, "Don't cut me out of the loop. I'm not eleven anymore. If Barry's hurting, I want to be there for him. I know the nightmares are really bad right now. My room is right next to his, after all."

Her dad sighed and gave her a weary look.

"Okay, Iris," he said, "I suppose you're old enough now that you should be a part of this. You _are_ his best friend after all. You should understand everything that's going on with him."

He sighed again as he sat down on the couch next to her, thinking of where to start. He decided to just dive right in and not dance around the subject.

"Last year, Barry was officially diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder," he started and then gave her a very serious look, "Do _not_ ever repeat those words to him though. If Barry even hears mention of anything involving PTSD, he gets extremely angry. That's why he quit therapy last year in the first place."

Iris nodded silently and waited for her father to continue.

"Barry gets what the doctors call 'anniversarial reactions.' This time of year always triggers the nightmares, and if handled right, they usually go away with some time. I'm sure you've noticed the pattern?" he asked her.

Iris nodded. She had noticed it for the last couple years now.

"I've been trying to get Barry to go back to therapy, but he gets so angry and upset every time I mention it. He's just had too many bad experiences with therapists in the past."

"Well, yeah," Iris said obviously, "Of course he hates therapists. They all practically told him he was crazy because of what he said he saw that night. Can you blame him for disliking them?"

"Iris, Barry needs to come to terms with what he witnessed that night," her dad said gently, "He watched his dad kill his mother. That's what he really saw. I think deep down, Barry knows that. He just doesn't want to accept that reality."

Iris didn't know what to believe. She didn't know if what Barry saw that night was real or not, but she did know one thing; Barry fully believed without a doubt that his dad did not kill his mother.

"Dad, what if you're wrong?" she asked, "What if Barry really _did_ see something else that night?"

Her dad just shook his head sadly at that.

"He didn't, Iris," he said firmly, "Barry was traumatized. He was just a scared little boy, and this delusion of his about the man in the yellow lightning was just his brain's way of coping with what he really saw. I don't blame Barry for it. After everything that happened to him, I don't blame him for being a little messed up by it. I understand that he just doesn't want to accept the truth of it, so his mind made up its own version of what happened."

Iris nodded thoughtfully. It was somewhat confusing. She had really only ever heard all of this from Barry's side. Hearing it from her father's point of view, it all sounded so different. Her dad almost made it seem like Barry was crazy or something. She didn't really know what to think. She wanted to believe Barry, and she didn't want to think of him as being crazy. Then again, if she really thought about it, her father's version made the most sense. Logically speaking at least.

"Barry's not crazy, dad," she said quietly.

"I didn't say he was," Joe said quickly, "I don't think he's crazy, Iris. I really don't. I just think that Barry has a lot that he's dealing with, and I want to make sure we're doing all the right things to help him through it all."

Iris nodded her agreement.

"I'll do whatever I can," she said firmly to him, "We'll help him through this, as a family."

Joe smiled at her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"That's my girl," he said proudly.

…..

 **Yes, I know I changed the date of Nora Allen's murder. In the show, they say it was on March 18, 2000, but I changed it for the purpose of this story. Also, it bothered me that they made it the day before Barry's birthday, which is technically March 19** **th** **according to the DC Calendar. I know I like to hurt Barry, but I'm not** ** _that_** **heartless.**


	3. Makes him Forget

**Makes him Forget**

"Shh! You're going to wake my dad up!" Iris whispered frantically at him. Barry laughed quietly as they tip toed down the stairs.

When they both reached the front door, she let Barry work his magic with the alarm system, hacking into the key pad by the door. He only had five attempts at it or the alarms would go off. Iris grinned and shook her head at him when the light turned green and the alarm was deactivated instantly.

"How did you _do_ that?" she asked him as they closed the front door quietly behind them.

"All these security systems work in virtually the same way, just with different software," he explained, "They all fail to encrypt or authenticate the signals being sent from sensors to control panels, making it easy to intercept the data, decipher the commands, and play them back to control panels at will."

"Okay, maybe I didn't want to know," Iris laughed, everything he had just said going way over her head, "So do you have the code now then?"

"It's 2452," Barry said, his voice slightly smug. She gave him a half hug as they walked down the sidewalk together.

"I could kiss you, Barry Allen," she said warmly with a laugh.

Barry was glad that it was too dark for her to see him blush at that as they made their way down the street. She walked close to him, shivering against the cold December air, even though there was no snow on the ground. Thankfully, Jake Preston's house wasn't far from theirs, so it wasn't a very long walk.

When they reached the house it was already late, so the party was already in full swing. Iris found her friends quickly, and Barry made his way through the packed living room to reach the kitchen.

"Allen, you made it!" Jake Preston yelled when Barry walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, Jake," Barry said to the junior with a smile, "Is Matt here yet?"

"Yeah, he's outside by the pool," Jake answered, pressing a full red plastic cup into Barry hand.

"Here, have a beer," he said laughing, "You look like you could really use one."

"Thanks," Barry said gratefully, taking a long drink from the cup.

Just the taste of cold beer was enough to lift his mood, at least for a little bit. For a little while, he could forget.

He found Matt outside, chatting up some girl who was way out of his league if he was being honest. Barry laughed to himself at his friend's antics. After the girl walked away, Barry went up to him, clapping him on the back.

"Well, it's her loss," Barry said with a laugh.

Matt grinned at him.

"It was worth a shot," he said with a shrug, "Now it's your turn."

"I'm good," Barry said.

His friend, Matt, was always trying to get him to try to pick up girls and be his wing man. Barry just wanted to relax and have fun though.

"Come on, Bar," Matt groaned, "Humor me just this once. With that face and that Disney prince hair of yours, you're bound to have more luck than me."

Barry just shook his head with a laugh.

"I'm not really in the mood, Matt," he said, taking a sip of his beer, "I just want to hang out tonight and relax."

"Becky Cooper is staring at you," Matt said with a smirk, nudging Barry's shoulder and nodding in the direction he was looking.

Barry looked over and sure enough, from across the pool, Becky was looking at him with a small smile on her lips. She looked away when their eyes met, and she turned back to her friends, giggling and saying something to them that Barry couldn't hear.

"Becky and I are just friends," Barry said.

Matt rolled his eyes.

"Come on, man," he said, "We both know you like her more than you let on. She's smokin' hot, and she's totally into you. So what's stopping you?"

Barry looked down, taking a sip of his drink to avoid answering. Matt didn't need him to though. He already knew.

"It's Iris, isn't it?" he asked.

Barry still didn't look at him.

"Come on, man," he groaned, "When are you going to let that go already?"

"I don't want to talk about this, Matt," Barry said firmly.

He drained the rest of his beer.

"I'm going to go grab another one," he said, holding up his empty cup, and then he walked away to make his way over to the keg.

As Barry walked through the party some people here and there smiled and said hi to him. He nodded politely and smiled back at them. Others, however, stared at him as he walked by. In his experience, most people who took the time to actually talk to Barry and get to know him ended up really liking him. Once they gave him a chance, they realized that he was just a normal guy like the rest of them.

People who didn't know him, however, couldn't help but whisper and stare at him when they thought he wasn't looking. To them, Barry was that weird kid whose dad went nuts and killed his mother. For all they knew, Barry was just as crazy as his father. He was kind of odd with all of his science talk all the time, and there were rumors that he believed some mysterious lightning man had really killed his mother. The kid was nuts. You could tell just by looking at him. And he was freakishly smart. Everyone knows that geniuses have just a little bit of crazy in them.

Barry usually just ignored the stares and the whispers. He didn't let it bother him for the most part. If they wanted to believe that he was some whack job without even really getting to know him first, then he didn't care what they thought anyways. Their opinions didn't matter to him. All that mattered were the opinions of his friends and family.

Some days, however, the stares bothered him more than others. He found his fists clenching as he walked when he could see a few peoples' heads turning to look at him. It was probably just in his head. They probably weren't even staring, but he didn't care. He was sick of people looking at him. He was sick of them judging him and jumping to conclusions about him before even meeting him. People in high school were so naïve and ready to believe any ridiculous rumor they heard.

As Barry reached the keg, he realized he was scowling. The expression on his face wasn't at all appropriate for a party. He was still feeling on edge after the long week he had had, and he was ready to just let it go. He just wanted to forget about it. He wanted to feel better. Really, he was thankful towards Matt for pushing him to go out. This might be exactly what he needed after the hellish week he had. Matt was probably right about the whole Iris thing too if Barry was being honest with himself. He knew there was no way she would ever feel the same way about him, and he should really just let her go. He should find someone new to be crazy about, someone who makes him happy. Someone who makes him forget.

After filling his cup, Barry was about to set the keg tap down when an empty cup was suddenly held out in front of him. As he took the plastic cup from the person to fill it for them, he looked up at the owner of the cup. His lips stretched into a wide grin when he saw her standing there, that same flirty smile from before still on her lips as she looked at him.

Becky Cooper.

…..

Iris was glad that Barry had changed his mind about going out tonight, but she was still worried about him. He seemed to be slightly better after having taken a nap, but Iris could tell that he still had a heavy mind. She hoped a night out would be good for him and wouldn't somehow make things worse.

She tried to keep an eye on him over the course of the evening, but she also was distracted by her friends and everyone else there. One girl seemed to keep grabbing her attention throughout the night. Becky Cooper. Iris didn't like the way she kept looking at Barry. She didn't trust the girl around her best friend.

"Hey, you're Iris, right?" Becky asked her, approaching her in the kitchen, "You're Barry's sister?"

"I'm not his sister," Iris corrected immediately, "I'm his best friend."

"Oh," Becky said, "But you live with him, right?"

"Yeah," Iris said slowly, wondering what this girl could possibly want.

"I was just wondering," Becky said with a giggle, "Is he dating anyone? He's single, right?"

Iris looked at her, measuring her up. There was a hungry, almost malicious look in the girl's eyes, but Iris was being silly, seeing things that weren't there. She was just being overprotective of her best friend.

"Yeah, he's single," Iris answered reluctantly.

"That's all I needed to know," Becky said in a satisfied voice, "He's still here, right? I saw him earlier by the pool, but I'm not sure where he went."

"I haven't seen him," Iris replied stiffly.

It wasn't exactly true. Iris had just seen Barry heading for the keg a minute ago.

"Oh, never mind," Becky said suddenly, looking across the room, "I see him. Thanks, Iris."

With that, the girl walked away, leaving Iris to glare after her. Iris felt her stomach churn when she saw Becky approach Barry by the keg. She blamed it on the drinking though since really there was no reason for her to be upset that a girl was interested in her best friend. Barry was amazing. Of course someone would be interested in him.

Still, Iris found herself seething for some reason when she saw the grin Barry flashed at Becky as he filled her cup for her and Becky ran a hand along his shoulder.

Iris tried to ignore them. It really wasn't any of her business anyways. As long as Barry was okay and wasn't getting too drunk, she would give him his space. She tried to stay with her friends for the remainder of the night. At one point, a few hours later she walked into the packed living room where everyone was dancing to Run It by Chris Brown. There, she found Becky dancing with Barry. Or _on_ Barry was more like it. She seemed pretty tipsy, and Iris thought she was brushing up against Barry a little too much, not that Barry seemed to mind. He was dancing with Becky with a stupid, boyish grin on his face. She tried to stay clear of the living room after that.

Iris paced herself with her drinks this time. Last time, Barry nearly had to carry her home, and she had never been more embarrassed. She was just thankful that her father had been out of town that night because there was no way they would have been able to sneak back in without him busting them with the way she had been stumbling around and giggling.

Barry, it appeared, was not pacing his drinks at all. It was like he was trying to drink himself into oblivion, which was something Iris had never seen Barry do before. It just wasn't really like him. When Iris next saw him way later in the evening, he was more than a little tipsy. It wasn't his drunkenness that bothered her though. It was the fact that he was lip locked with Becky sitting on the couch in the living room. Becky looked like she was practically trying to climb into his lap as they were sucking face like they were the only people in the room. Iris blushed indignantly when she saw where Becky's hand was placed on Barry's thigh.

"Barry, are you ready to go soon?" Iris asked loudly over the music that was still playing—Maneater was coincidentally playing in the background.

The couple broke apart, and both of them looked blearily up at her.

"Heeeey, Iris," Barry slurred, his mouth stretching into a wide grin, "I's still earrly. Aren't chu 'aving fun?"

"It's after one, Bar," Iris told him, "We should probably get going."

"You don't have to leave yet, Barrry," Becky whined, rubbing her hand gently up and down his chest and shooting an impatient glare at Iris, "You should staaay a little longer…"

Barry gave her an apologetic smile.

"No, Iris s'right," he mumbled, "I should get going."

With a hand from Iris, Barry stood up from the couch. Becky looked disappointed, but she didn't argue.

"G'night, Becky," Barry slurred, smiling at her.

"See you around, Barry," she answered with a confident smile. To Iris, the girl looked somewhat smug.

Barry let Iris steer him out of the house. She was actually surprised by how well he was able to walk on his own.

"Barry, I don't think I've ever seen you this drunk before," she muttered as they made their way down the sidewalk towards their street.

"'m good," he slurred.

"Barry, you're _not_ good," she said as they turned onto their street and Barry stumbled slightly. She steadied him as he got his bearings.

"I can prove it," he said smugly, "Wha d'you want me t' do? I can recite the periodic table or…"

"Ugh, Barry, please don't," Iris said, laughing at his dorkiness.

She would never admit it out loud, but Barry was quite adorable when he was drunk.

"Hey, Iris," he said suddenly with a giggle, "Wanna hear a joke?"

"Sure," she said in an amused voice.

"Wha's the fastest way to det-determine the sex of a chromosome?" he asked with a grin on his face, "Pull down its genes."

"Oh my god, Barry," Iris said with a cringe and a laugh, "You always tell the corniest science jokes."

"It's not my fault all the goood ones Argon," he said with a giggle, "Get it, Iris? Argon?"

"Oh jeez," Iris said, laughing.

"D'you wanna hear a potassium joke?" he asked her goofily.

"No, Barry," Iris said with an amused sigh.

"K," he said, and then stared at her with a goofy grin on his face, waiting for her to get it.

"Oh my god," she said, after a moment, smacking him lightly on the arm for being the world's cutest dork.

He laughed hysterically, like it was the funniest thing it the world. Iris laughed right along with him, thinking to herself how good it was to hear him laugh, _really_ laugh, like this, even if it was only because he was drunk.

"Wait," Barry said suddenly, halting where he stood on the sidewalk, "Wha' street are we on?"

"We're on _our_ street," Iris said, impatiently pulling on his arm to get him to start walking again.

"Are we on Adams?" Barry asked her shakily.

He suddenly didn't sound drunk and happy any more. He sounded scared.

"No, Barry," she said quickly, "I just said, we're on our street. We're almost home."

"Are you sure?" Barry asked, looking around the residential street nervously.

"Yes, Barry, I know where we…are."

Oh, shit. He was right. This wasn't their street. They _were_ on Adams Street. Iris must have been tipsier than she originally thought. She hadn't even realized it when they had turned onto the wrong street.

"Barry…I—"

"That's my house," Barry whispered, staring over her shoulder.

Iris turned to look at the house behind her. It looked just like she remembered it when she and Barry were kids and she used to go over for play dates. Barry's eyes were wide and watery as he stared at his old childhood home, not quite believing it was really there, right in front of him after all these years.

"Iris, we have to go," he said seriously, still staring at the house with watery eyes, "I can't be here."

Iris nodded and they quickly turned around. She led them to the correct street, being more careful as she looked at the street signs to make sure they went the right way. She couldn't believe that Barry had recognized Adams Street so easily considering how drunk he was. That's how emblazoned the place was in his mind though. He had noticed the street they were on before she even did.

Barry was silent for the rest of the walk home, apart from the occasional sniffle here and there. Iris thought she may have even saw a tear on his cheek, but she wasn't sure. He was completely different from the happy, drunk goofball he had been when they first left the party.

"Barry, I'm so sorry about that," she apologized when they were almost to their house.

"'s fine," he said quietly.

He didn't say anything else as they clamored up the porch steps of their house.

Iris entered in the code Barry had told her, and opened the door silently. She tried to get him up the stairs as quietly as possible so they wouldn't wake her dad, but Barry bumped into the wall, and Iris cringed at the loud thump it made.

"Come on, Barry," she whispered gently, leading him to his room.

She helped him take his shoes off and made him drink some water before laying down.

"Thanks," he mumbled, as he pulled the covers up over his still fully dressed body.

"No problem, Bar," she said quietly.

As she turned around to leave the room, she was stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the figure in the doorway. Her father was standing there, arms crossed as he stared her down.

"Hi, dad," she said sheepishly after he didn't say anything.

He continued to stare at her disapprovingly for another moment or two before speaking.

"We'll talk about this in the morning," he said flatly.

And then without another word, he turned and went back to his own room.

 _Shit_ , Iris thought. _He's going to be so pissed._

With a feeling of daunting apprehension weighing over her, Iris made her way back to her own bedroom. She was definitely not looking forward to tomorrow morning. Her father's wrath was going to be worse than the hangover.

…..

Breakfast was awkward, to say the least. Joe was shooting daggers with his eyes at both of his children. He had already given them an earful about last night's events when they first woke up, and he was still seething in the aftermath.

Barry kept his head down, pushing the food around on his plate while his stomach churned and he tried to ignore Joe's glare. His whole body felt weak and shaky from the night before. Being hungover was the worst feeling, especially when you had your angry foster father shooting dirty looks at you as he thought about what your punishment would be.

"Barry, you're going to clean out the gutters today," Joe said firmly, " _All of them_."

Barry nodded silently, still not looking him in the eyes as he accepted his punishment without arguing.

"Iris," he continued, "You get to scrub the floors in the kitchen, laundry room and bathroom."

"What?!" Iris said incredulously, not accepting her punishment as willingly, "Dad, that will take all day!"

"Well, maybe you should have thought about that before sneaking out last night and bringing Barry back completely smashed," he said sternly.

"Joe," Barry said in a pleading voice, "It wasn't Iris's fault. I convinced her to go out. I hacked into your security system to disarm it, and I'm the one who drank too much. You don't have to punish her too."

Really, going out had originally been her idea. Matt was just the one who had made his mind up for him. The rest of it was true though, and Barry felt terrible that Iris was being punished along with him. It was all his fault they got caught in the first place. Joe had noticed they were gone because he had gone by Barry's room to check on him and make sure he wasn't having any nightmares. If it weren't for him and all his night terrors all the time, they probably would have gotten away with it.

"Iris is just as guilty here as you are, Barry," Joe said firmly, "And you two can expect to spend the rest of the weekend at home. You're both grounded now."

"What!?" Iris practically yelled, "Dad, come on! We're both sixteen!"

"Joe," Barry said seriously, "It's _Saturday_."

"I don't care. You two aren't leaving this house this weekend or the next," Joe said firmly.

"Joe," Barry said again with pleading eyes, "It's Saturday. Please. He's expecting me. What's he going to think if I just don't show up?"

"Bar, you know how I feel about that," Joe said sternly, "I still have my reservations about you going to see him at all. I'm sorry that you can't see your dad today, but the space might be a good thing for you two anyways."

"Please, Joe," Barry begged, "I really need to see him today. I've been waiting all week to see him. I need to, Joe. I need my dad."

Joe tried not to let these words hurt him. He tried not to let them make him feel like he wasn't enough. Of course Barry wanted to see his dad. They had a bond between the two of them that Joe could never replace, and Joe tried hard not to be upset by that fact. He really did.

"Sorry, Bar," he said, not budging.

For some reason, he couldn't look Barry in the eye, and instead he looked down at the table. He heard Barry roughly slide his chair back and stand. Barry didn't look at his foster father again as he stormed out of the room.

The kitchen was silent for a few moments after Barry's heated departure.

"Go on," Joe said to his daughter, "You can say it."

"That was a low blow, dad," Iris said huffily before she too left the kitchen.

Joe sighed and put his head in his hands. These kids were going to be the death of him.

…..

Barry worked hard and fast to get the gutters cleaned out. It was dirty and tedious work, but he tried to get it over with as fast as possible despite how shitty he was feeling from his hangover. Iris, however, was dragging her chores out, taking her time as she slowly and reluctantly scrubbed the kitchen floor.

When Barry was done with the gutters, he immediately went to help Iris with the floors, still feeling guilty for getting them caught. She assured him that it wasn't his fault, but he knew the truth. It was entirely his fault. He had fucked up bad last night. Overall, it wasn't the best night out ever.

He felt stupid for getting so wasted. It wasn't something he normally did. He knew why it happened though. He had wanted to numb himself. He had wanted to feel better and just forget everything for a night, so he drank. He drank and drank until he forgot. He had never used alcohol to cope before, so really the thought scared him. He vowed to himself never to use it for that purpose again. It would only lead to more problems for him if he made a habit out of getting shitfaced every time his nightmares and anxiety became too much for him. He was better than that.

The only good thing that seemed to come out of last night was Becky Cooper. Barry's memories of the previous night were hazy, but who could forget making out with one of the hottest girls in school? What was more was that they had finally exchanged numbers and she and Barry had now been texting each other all morning.

Iris scowled every time she looked up from her scrubbing to see Barry texting, a small smile on his face as he looked at his phone.

"I thought you said you were going to help me," she said teasingly, trying to keep her voice light.

Barry looked up from his phone to look at her.

"Right, sorry," he said, a smile still on his face from whatever text from Becky he had just read.

He flipped his phone shut and went back to work.

"So, what's going on with you and Becky?" Iris asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Barry looked at her and shrugged.

"I don't know," he said dismissively, "We're just friends."

Iris scoffed humorlessly.

"Friends don't grope each other and exchange saliva the way you two were last night," she accused.

Barry blushed and looked back down at the floor tile he was scrubbing.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Iris," he said quietly, "She's great. She makes me feel better, and I like being around her. I don't really know what we are, but I'm happy to see where it goes."

Iris nodded. He really hadn't told her anything that she didn't already know. For some reason, she really didn't like where this whole thing was going, but if Becky made Barry happy, Iris was going to do her best to put her own feelings aside and not stand in the way of that.

"Speaking of last night…" Iris started nervously, "I'm so sorry…about the Adams Street thing."

She watched his face for changes, but it didn't waver. She noticed the brush in his hand that he was scrubbing with stopped moving for a brief moment though. It was only a slight pause, and then he resumed his work.

"It's fine, Iris," he said flatly, "It was an honest mistake."

"Are you okay?" she asked concernedly.

"I'm fine," he said immediately in an emotionless voice before looking back at the floor. The response was too quick, too automatic for her liking.

"Barry, if you need to ta—"

"I said I'm fine, Iris!" he snapped at her, surprising her a little bit with his hostility.

She gave him a hurt look that caused his own expression to soften slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just…I really wanted to see my dad today, and now that I can't I'm not in the best mood."

"I'm sorry, Barry," she said gently, "I know how much it means to you to be able to visit him."

Barry just nodded. Both went back to their scrubbing in silence, Iris looking up at him every few minutes. He never talked much about his meetings with his dad. Iris had never gone with him for a visit, and he didn't ever really tell her what he and his dad talked about. It was a part of Barry's life that she was somewhat clueless about. All she knew was that every Saturday Barry made the trip to Iron Heights to visit his dad. He never told her about it, about what they said to each other or what it was like for him.

They were best friends, and they told each other everything, but Iris knew that there were parts of his life and parts of himself that he kept hidden from her. As much as she thought she knew him and how he thought and how he felt, sometimes there were moments where she felt like she didn't know him at all. It hurt her that she could never fully understand everything that Barry went through, everything that he kept hidden beneath the surface. There was this whole other side to him that was a complete mystery to her.

"I'm going to go do my homework," Barry muttered when they were finished with the floors.

"Okay," she said softly, and shortly after that Barry disappeared up the stairs.

…..

Joe spent the better part of his day somewhat at war with himself. He felt guilty. For some reason he felt guilty about the punishment he had given for Barry's and Iris's escapades last night. He didn't regret the chores he had given them; he didn't regret that part one bit. He felt bad though about grounding them. Really, the only reason he felt guilty about it was because he kept picturing the look on Barry's face when he had found out he wouldn't be able to see his dad today. He had looked so crushed.

Joe felt like it was kind of a wrong, twisted punishment, not allowing Barry to go see his own father, but that honestly hadn't been his reasoning or his intention when he had decided to ground them. Really, it hadn't even crossed his mind until Barry had brought it up. Although Joe felt bad about it, he wasn't going to change his mind. He was going to follow through with the initial punishment. He always followed through with his punishments and enforced them once he had given them.

Also, if he was being truly honest with himself, he really still wasn't sure how he felt about Barry visiting with his dad. Who knew what ideas that man was putting into Barry's head? How was Joe ever going to get Barry to accept what he really saw that night when his father was constantly telling him otherwise? Of course Barry was going to always choose to believe Henry. He would believe him because he _wanted_ to believe in him.

With Barry's weekly visits with his father, Joe knew Barry was never really going to accept the truth of what happened the night his mother died. He would carry his childhood delusion with him into adulthood, and he would never fully recover from his trauma because of it. All of the therapists said it. Accepting what actually happened that night was the first step, and Henry was making that impossible for Barry. The man was compromising his own son's recovery, his recovery from a childhood trauma that _he_ caused. Then again, why would he care? This was all coming from a man who had killed his own wife in front of his eleven-year-old son. What did he care if Barry recovered? At least he had someone to visit him every week and save him from the boredom of prison.

Barry had been visiting his father once a week for two years now. By the time Barry turned fourteen, it became clear that he was never going to stop trying to see his dad, and Joe finally gave in, knowing that nothing and no one, not even Joe, would ever stop him from going to see his father and talk to him. Joe froze on that thought.

Shit.

He quickly made his way into the living room, where Iris was sitting on the couch massaging her sore knees after finishing scrubbing the floors.

"Where's Barry?" he asked her urgently.

"Upstairs," she answered blankly, "Doing his homework."

"On a Saturday?" Joe asked raising an eyebrow.

"You know Barry," Iris laughed, "He's a nerd. He doesn't procrastinate till Sunday night like I do."

But Joe knew better, and he quickly made his way up the stairs and knocked on Barry's bedroom door. Not to his surprise, there was no response. Joe let out an angry sigh as he picked the lock and opened the door. Sure enough, Barry wasn't in his room, and his bedroom window was wide open. Joe made his way over to the window. There was a ladder under it. Of course. Barry had placed it there strategically after he had finished cleaning out the gutters. Damn, that boy was smart. Too smart sometimes.

…..

 **Just a quick reminder, this fic is taking place in 2006, which is why I mentioned those older songs during the party scene and why Barry has a flip phone. I'm probably going to be putting other 2006 elements into this story, so I just want everyone to keep that in mind.**


	4. Lights and Sirens

**Lights and Sirens**

Barry felt like he was eleven years old again, running down the sidewalk, trying to get to Iron Heights before Joe noticed he was gone. He was sixteen now, but deep down, he still felt that childlike fear of getting caught and that frantic sense of urgency to get to his father before that happened. Obviously, he wasn't scared in the same way now. He knew Joe now, and he knew that the worst Joe could do to him was give him more chores or ground him longer. But as a kid…

As a kid, it had been terrifying. He hadn't known Joe very well then, and running down the sidewalk with your foster father's police car trailing after you was about as scary as it got. Joe had always been kind to him though. He had always been patient and understanding because Barry had been just a little boy then, a little boy who was scared and who had lost his mother and only wanted to see his father again.

Now, however, Barry was older, and Joe wasn't afraid to be harsh on him. He knew Joe wasn't stupid and would eventually find out he had gone to Iron Heights. Joe was going to be pissed. Barry knew he was in for it when he went home later, but that didn't matter now. He would do whatever chores Joe gave him, as long as he got to see his dad today. He would have taken his car, but it was parked in the garage, and Joe no doubt would have heard the garage door open immediately, so Barry had been given no choice but to run there on foot.

Sticky sweat covered Barry's face and back despite the cold December air. He had almost put a coat on before he left. Now he was glad he hadn't. He was sweating enough as it was. Barry was a lot faster now than he had been when he was a kid. He wasn't the star of the track team for nothing. Still, a squad car was faster. Barry was almost all the way to Iron Heights when Joe came down the street in his cruiser. When Joe pulled up alongside him, Barry stopped running and slowed down to a fast walk, knowing it didn't pay to run at this point. He didn't look at Joe but instead kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk ahead him.

"Barry, get in the car," Joe said firmly, driving slowing alongside Barry as he walked.

Barry didn't answer. He didn't look at him. He just kept walking, his jaw set in defiance.

"Barry, don't make me tell you twice," Joe said dangerously.

"Or what?" Barry asked angrily, finally looking over at Joe without breaking his stride, "Are you going to ground me longer? Are you going to give me a million chores to do? Well, go ahead! Do whatever you want, but you are _not_ going to stop me from seeing my dad."

"Barry, I only grounded you guys for two weeks," Joe said reasonably, "I'm not trying to stop you from seeing him indefinitely. I just—"

"You shouldn't be trying to stop me from seeing him at all," Barry said angrily, "I mean, what kind of sick punishment is that?! Stopping someone from seeing their own father."

Joe sighed and turned right along with him when Barry made a left on the sidewalk down Jackson Street. Barry kept a fast pace, but Joe kept up with him easily in his cruiser. At this point, Barry wasn't trying to escape him. He was simply walking on his way to see his dad. Joe was only an annoyance to him now.

"Bar," he said softly, "You know that's not what my intention was when I grounded you. I just wanted you and Iris to face the consequences of your actions last night. That's all."

Barry didn't respond to that. He just kept walking. He was covered in sweat from all the running he had done, and his shirt was sticking to him. The cold air was starting to cool his wet clothing, and Barry felt a shiver run through him. He just kept walking though, determined to make it to Iron Heights. It was a farther walk than he had thought. He had forgotten how miserable the trip to Iron Heights was on foot.

"Barry, it's freezing outside," Joe pointed out needlessly.

Barry didn't need him to tell him how cold it was. He could feel it in his numb fingers and toes. At least there was no snow. He didn't think wet shoes would have helped his case.

"Barry, get in the car _now_ ," Joe said firmly.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Joe," Barry said forcefully, "You can't scare me into listening to you. I'm not afraid of a man in a squad car anymore."

Joe felt a weight of guilt settle in his chest. He thought back to all those times he had stopped Barry from going to Iron Heights as a kid, all the times he had pulled up alongside him or cut across his path with his squad car. A few times he had even put his lights on to scare the kid from running. He would never forget the crushed look on Barry's face every time he got caught. Some of the times he had been so close to the prison. And yes, sometimes that look of disappointment on the young Barry's face had also been accompanied by a look of fear. He was just a little boy, and Joe was this big man whom he didn't know very well yet. Having Joe pull up in a police car with its lights on must have been somewhat terrifying for the kid.

Looking back, Joe regretted how he had handled things. He regretted scolding the boy, and he regretted using his squad lights. A few times after that, Barry had even had a few nightmares about it. Joe felt immensely guilty for that especially. As if the kid needed more traumatizing things to dream about.

Barry was older now, and he was better able to understand Joe's side of it. He understood where Joe was coming from and why he thought he was in the right. That didn't stop Barry from wanting to see his dad though. He didn't see Joe as the bad guy anymore, and he certainly didn't hate the man like he first did when he came to live with the Wests, but Barry still sometimes felt resentment towards him.

Joe had helped them lock up his dad after all, and he had always been against Barry maintaining any sort of relationship with his father. How was Barry not supposed to see him as the bad guy sometimes? It was hard for Barry. He felt guilty about his feelings of resentment towards the man who had done so much for him. He had given him a place to live. He had kept him fed and put clothes on his back. He had done everything in his power to make Barry feel like a part of the family and to help him overcome his childhood trauma. It all made it really hard for Barry to ever be angry with Joe. His conflicting feelings towards his foster father often confused Barry, but right now, walking on this sidewalk down Jackson Street with Joe driving alongside him, there was no confusion. He knew exactly how he felt, and he felt angry.

"Barry," Joe said, his voice surprisingly soft, "Please just come home with me."

"That's not my home," Barry spat at him, "And you're not my father. _He's_ my dad Joe, not you, and keeping me from seeing him isn't going to change that."

Joe didn't say anything back. He looked like he had been slapped in the face, and for a brief moment Barry felt a slight hint of remorse over his harsh words. Not enough for him to take them back though. Barry just kept walking.

"Alright, Barry," Joe said, and Barry felt another twinge of guilt upon hearing the hurt in his voice, "Go ahead and see him. I'll see you at h—the house."

Barry turned his head to look at him, but Joe was already facing forward again, and a moment later, he sped up and drove down the rest of the street, where he disappeared around a corner. Great. Now he had done it. The only thing worse than having Joe angry with you was having him sad because of you. Barry hated giving him so much grief. He felt so caught in the middle sometimes, like he was often choosing between his dad and his foster dad. Barry knew his relationship with his dad probably made Joe feel a little bad, like he was incomplete, like he wasn't enough for Barry.

Barry wanted to tell him that that wasn't true, that Joe was more than enough, but he wasn't sure if that was necessarily true. As amazing as Joe was, he _wasn't_ enough, and that was just the ugly truth of it. Barry still felt like he didn't have a family. Joe and Iris had welcomed him into their home with loving arms, but Barry still sometimes felt like a guest there, like a charity case.

He felt like an orphan.

That thought made him angry. He _wasn't_ an orphan. His mother may be gone, but father was still alive, and nothing would stop Barry from going to see the only family he had left. He wasn't an orphan.

Barry felt intense relief when he finally made it to Iron Heights. He tried to put his argument with Joe from his mind as he walked into the large building. Walking into Iron Heights used to be somewhat intimidating to him. It was a prison after all, and the guards had always looked so unfriendly to him. Over the years, however, Barry found that to be untrue. Most of them were actually very amiable, and they always greeted him kindly when he checked in as a visitor at the front desk. They all knew who Barry was by now of course. He had been coming here once a week for two years and plenty of other times before that as he had tried to sneak into the place.

Like always, Barry presented his visitor badge to the guard and was led to the visitation room that he knew too well. He sat down at the desk in front of the glass window, waiting anxiously for his dad to sit down on the other side. When his father finally walked up to the chair opposite him and sat down, smiling at him, Barry felt some of the tension leave his body. It was a feeling of relief and calmness that only seeing his father seemed to bring him.

"Hey, Slugger," his dad said, flashing him a wide smile, happy to see his son.

That was why Barry came here. Not only did he need his dad, but his dad needed him. His father never admitted to it because he didn't want Barry to feel guilted into coming to see him, but Barry knew that his father looked forward to their weekly visits just as much as he did.

"Hi, dad," Barry said, smiling just as wide.

The smile almost felt foreign on his face, given the shitty last few weeks he had had.

"Why are you all sweaty?" his dad asked, laughing lightly as he looked Barry over, "Did you walk here?"

"Ran actually," Barry said.

"It's a little early to be doing preseason cross country training, don't you think?"

"I'm not training," Barry said, wiping the cold sweat from his face.

"Joe?" his dad asked.

Barry nodded.

"He gave you a hard time about coming today?" Henry asked, "Why? I thought you two had an understanding about the whole thing."

"We do," Barry said, "He grounded me."

Henry raised his eyebrows.

"What'd you do this time, Slugger?" he asked in exasperation, "Did you set the kitchen on fire again with one of your experiments?"

Barry laughed and shook his head.

"No, I sort of snuck out last night," he answered sheepishly, "Iris and I went to a party."

Henry shook his head in amused disapproval.

"Please tell me you were at least responsible," he said, but there was a small smile on his face.

"I was," Barry answered, "Well, Iris was at least. Normally I'm the more responsible one, but last night…That's not important though. I mean, of course it's important. Being responsible is always important, but—"

"Barry," Henry said, cutting off his rant, "I'm not mad. As long as you got home safely, I understand."

"You do?" Barry said, relieved.

"Of course," his father said, "I was young once. I know how it is. I want you to have fun, normal high school experiences, as long as you always use good judgement and are responsible about it."

Barry smiled at him, and then Henry continued.

"That being said though, I also don't want to contradict Joe. You have to respect his rules, Barry, and if he doesn't want you and his daughter sneaking out at night, you have to respect that. I hope you haven't been giving him too much of a hard time."

Barry's smile left his face as his father continued.

"I might be okay with you going out and having fun every now and then, but if Joe isn't, then I'm not going to override him. I respect his parenting decisions."

"But he's not my parent," Barry said immediately, "You are."

Henry sighed.

"I am, Barry, but Joe is your legal guardian," he said lightly, "You need to listen to him."

Barry also sighed. They had had this exact conversation before, a few times actually. It always reminded him of the day he had gone to visit his father shortly after he had been convicted. His father had explained everything to him, explained that he would be staying with the Wests from now on, that they were going to take good care of him and that he needed to listen to Joe and be a good boy.

"Well, maybe he doesn't have to be my legal guardian," Barry challenged, "If we got you out, _you_ could be."

Henry shook his head sadly.

"Barry…"

"Just hear me out," Barry said excitedly, "I've been going over the different methods for case appeals, and I found in section fourteen, paragraph G of the—"

"Barry," his dad said, cutting him off, "We've talked about this. You need to stop."

"No, no. Just hear me out this time, dad," Barry said happily, "I found—"

"Barry, please stop," Henry said, closing his eyes in anguish.

The smile slid from Barry's face, and he stopped talking, looking at his dad with a crestfallen expression on his face.

"Barry," his dad said in a strained voice, "I appreciate everything that you're trying to do for me. I really do, but you need to move on. You need to stop playing lawyer."

Barry frowned at his father.

"But I can do this, dad," Barry said quietly, "I can help."

"There's nothing you can do, Barry," his father said quietly, " _Nothing._ You need to accept that."

"No," Barry said stubbornly, shaking his head, "I'm going to get you out of here one day, dad. I promise. I'll go to law school. Or I'll become a cop. Or a forensics expert. I don't know. I'll find a way to help you out of here somehow."

"Barry," Henry said firmly, _"_ _Stop_. I don't want you wasting your life trying to help me. If you continue to obsess like this about getting me out of here, you're going to miss out on everything else. I want you to have a life, son. I don't want you to be trapped in here with me. I want you to be free to live your life."

"I can't," Barry said in anguish, "I can't do that without my dad. I can't."

"You have Joe, Barry," Henry said sadly, "And you have Iris. You're not alone, Slugger. You still have people who care about you."

"Joe hates me," Barry said quietly.

Henry was taken aback.

"What would make you say that?" he asked.

Barry shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.

"I don't know," he said, "I mess everything up. He's so mad at me right now. And even when he's not mad at me, I know he probably regrets taking me in and letting me live there."

"Barry," Henry said sadly, "There's no way that's true."

"Of course it is," Barry said tearfully, "I'm just a burden to him. He spends all his money on meds and therapists for me, and I refuse to use them. I refuse to go see them when he asks me to."

"Has he been pushing the therapy stuff again?" Henry asked sadly.

Barry nodded.

"Why, Barry?" his dad asked, "What's been going on?"

"Nothing," Barry said dismissively.

"Son, please tell me," Henry insisted.

Barry sighed.

"I've just been getting the nightmares again," he said quietly, "That's all."

Henry looked like he wanted more than anything to reach through the glass that was separating them and give his son a hug, but he couldn't. He hadn't been able to do that for five years.

"Son," Henry said after a moment, "Maybe the therapist isn't such a bad idea."

"I'm not doing it," Barry said stubbornly, "There's no way that I'm going back there again."

"Barry, maybe it's what you need," Henry said desperately, "A boy your age shouldn't be worried about nightmares or case appeals. You're dealing with a lot of stuff that you shouldn't have to deal with."

"Dad, you don't understand," Barry said desperately, "They treat me like I'm crazy. They analyze me. They tell me horrible things about you, about how you really killed mom and about how everything that I know as the truth is all just in my head. You really want me to go and talk to them?"

Henry sighed. It was all so complicated. He could see that Barry was struggling and that he needed to talk to somebody, but he also didn't want his son's faith in him to waver. Barry knew the truth, and talking to a variety of different shrinks only made him feel judged for his beliefs. Henry didn't like the idea of a bunch of therapists treating his son like he's delusional, but at the same time, Barry was going through so much, and if talking to a psychologist helped him, maybe it would be worth it.

"Son," Henry said in a strained voice, "I know it's hard and it's confusing when you're being told so many different things. As long as you know the truth, what does it matter what a few therapists think? They don't know us or our family or what we've been through. That being said though, I think you might still benefit from talking to them."

"Why?" Barry asked incredulously, "Obviously I'm not crazy, and I'm not delusional, so why would I need to talk to them?"

"Barry," Henry said painfully, "Your nightmares are coming back. We go through this every year. We can't just keep ignoring it every time until it goes away, only to return the next year. After what you went through, it's only to be expected that you would have some residual anxiety from it."

"It's not enough that I'm on medication for it?" Barry said angrily, "Now you and Joe want me go back into therapy?"

"Barry, no one is going to judge you for it," his father said, "Like I said, kids your age don't normally have to deal with stuff like this. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not going to do it, dad," Barry said, although he didn't sound stubbornly angry now. If anything, his voice sounded pleading.

"I can't go back to therapy," he said desperately, "I can't. Please, dad. I can't. Please don't make me do it. You don't know what it's like. Please. I just can't. Please."

Henry had to hold back tears as he listened to his son's pleading. This wasn't right. Barry was so smart and so bright. Henry hated the fact that his bright, beautiful boy was being held back from reaching his potential because of everything that had happened to him. He often wondered what life would have been like for them if none of this had ever happened. If his wife was still alive and their family was still together in one piece. Barry shouldn't be sitting in front of him, a pane of thick glass between them as Barry begged through the telephone for them not to send him back to therapy. This entire situation was wrong.

Barry should be just a normal boy. He should be hanging out with his friends on Saturdays, not sitting in a dark, dim prison visitation area. Barry should be worrying about what colleges he was going to apply to, not nightmares and court appeals. His boy had so much potential, and it killed Henry to think that Barry might be so preoccupied with what had happened to their family that he may never see the full range of that potential. He might never be able to grow up into the extraordinary person he was sure to have otherwise become.

"It's alright, son," Henry said soothingly, a hint of sadness in his voice, "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. I don't really have a say in the matter anyways. I just think that therapy might not be a bad idea. Ultimately, it should be your decision though."

Barry took a deep breath and nodded gratefully. If only Joe would feel the same way. Barry was still nervous that he was going to force him into therapy, whether he wanted to do it or not.

"I'm sorry, dad," Barry said quietly, "I wanted to have a more pleasant visit with you today. I didn't want to make you feel worried or upset. I just wanted to have a nice talk with you."

"I know, Barry," Henry said sadly, "But you don't have to worry about my feelings. I want to know these things. I want to know everything that's going on with you, even if it's painful to hear about."

When Barry continued to look sad, Henry tried to change the subject.

"So, why don't you tell me about this party you went to last night," he said with a smile.

Barry smiled too and then proceeded to tell him about his night out with Iris and even told him about Becky. Henry was glad to see that his son wasn't completely isolating himself and that despite everything he was going through, he was still having plenty of social experiences. Despite all of the darkness in Barry's life, he still managed to walk in the light.


	5. Normal

**I'm returning to this story! Finally! I'm so sorry about the wait! I didn't think people were all that interested in this story, to be honest, but a review from TheStreakLives on one of my other stories pushed me to update. Thanks for the nudge! I hope you like the chapter!**

 **In case anyone is thinking from my last chapter that I dislike Joe, I just have to make sure everyone knows that he's my absolute favorite character—next to Barry, of course. I'm not trying to make him out to be the bad guy in this story. I'm simply showing some of the challenges and bumps along the way that Barry and Joe may have gone through throughout Barry's adolescence. Their father-son-like relationship is a complicated one, and I would imagine they would have gone through some rough patches over the years, especially with Joe's involvement with Barry's father's conviction. You can see a lot of tension between Barry and Joe in the pilot episode, and I feel like that tension is sort of forgotten about as the series progressed.**

 **I also just want everyone to keep in mind that Barry is sixteen in this story. Although, I'd imagine Barry was always very mature for his age, he's still a teenager, and he's going through an emotional time, so if he seems OOC, that's why.**

 **Normal**

Earlier, Barry had been sure that he would have to face Joe's anger the entire rest of the weekend, but he found that that wasn't the case. Instead of yelling at him, Joe was silent. Instead of shooting glares at him, Joe hardly even looked at Barry. Instead of being angry, Joe was sullen and quiet.

Barry found that this was so much worse than facing Joe's anger. He wanted to apologize and hated the fact that Joe was upset because of him, but at the same time, Barry _didn't_ want to apologize. He still thought that he was in the right, and he had no regrets about going to see his dad. He knew he had said some hurtful things, but did Joe not realize how much it hurt when he talked about Barry's father the way that he did? Did he seriously not realize how that made Barry feel?

No, Barry was not going to apologize. Joe would get over it. If anything _Joe_ should apologize to _him_. For trying to stop him from seeing his dad. For locking his dad up in the first place.

The tension between Barry and Joe didn't go unnoticed by Iris. They weren't actively fighting, but the way they were avoiding each other and not speaking to one another was almost just as noticeable.

"What's going on with you two?" she asked Barry on Sunday night, "What's up with you and my dad?"

"Nothing," Barry answered, not looking up from his homework, "It's fine."

"I don't know what it is," Iris said seriously, "but it's definitely not fine."

Barry didn't say anything back to that. He just kept working on his homework, erasing something and penciling in a new answer.

"I want an answer, Barry," she said firmly.

"You should talk to _him_ then," Barry said, "He's the one who's been avoiding me."

"I already _have_ talked to him," she said in frustration, "He's not telling me anything. And it's not just all him, Bar. You've been avoiding him too."

"Don't worry about it, Iris," Barry said unconcernedly, "It'll blow over. It always does."

"Oh, no," she said angrily, "We're not doing that this time. You know I hate it when you two boys fight. I'm not dealing with two weeks of you two avoiding each other and skirting around the issue until it goes away on its own. You need to fix this, Barry Allen."

"I don't know how to do that," he said, finally looking up from his homework, a serious look on his face, "I said something that really hurt him, Iris. I don't know how to fix it."

"How about saying you're sorry?" she said obviously.

Barry sighed and looked back down at his homework. He could still feel Iris's eyes on him though.

"You're not sorry, are you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sorry that he's upset," Barry said simply, "But I'm not going to apologize for what I said. All I said was the truth."

"What did you say?" she asked him.

Barry paused, hesitating before telling her.

"I said that this wasn't home to me," he said, "And that he wasn't really my dad."

"Barry…" Iris whispered.

She looked just as hurt as her father had when he said these words.

"I'm sorry," Barry said, "But it's true, isn't it? I mean, yeah I live here and all, but…I'm not your family. I'm just your charity case."

"Barry," Iris said, "That's not true. You _are_ family. You've been with us for five years now. Of course, you're family."

Barry sighed.

"I don't know," he said, "Sometimes I still feel like a guest here. I still feel like the little kid that just moved here, and seeing my house the other night…"

"I'm sorry about that," Iris said quickly, "I know that was hard for you. I can't imagine the feelings that must have brought up for you. The memories."

"I just miss it," Barry said quietly, "I appreciate everything you and Joe have done for me. I like living here. I really do. I have a good life here. It's just…I really miss my old life. I miss my old house…and my mom."

"I know, Barry," Iris said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I know."

Barry sighed.

"I'm going to go to bed," he said quietly, "I'm really tired."

"Okay, Barry," she said softly, frowning as she watched him stand up and walk towards the stairs, leaving his unfinished homework spread out over the kitchen table.

It wasn't like him. It wasn't like Barry to leave a mess without cleaning it up. It especially wasn't like him to not finish his homework. Barry wasn't himself.

It killed her to hear him admit that he didn't feel at home here, that he still felt like a guest, a "charity case" as he had put it. Iris didn't see him that way, and she was sure her dad didn't either, so she wondered what had happened to make him feel that way. Maybe it was seeing his old house. Maybe seeing it reminded him that the life he was living wasn't the way it was originally supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to be living in her house. He was supposed to be living in his own, with his own parents.

Iris tried to think if there was ever anything she had said or did to make him feel like he wasn't a part of the family, but she couldn't. Well, there was always the fact that she corrected people when they called her and Barry brother and sister, but he did that too. They were family, but she didn't think of Barry as a brother necessarily. They were best friends, and they were family, but not necessarily in a sibling sort of way.

She knew her dad definitely considered him like a son though. He looked at Barry with a pride that only a parent feels for their own child. He loved Barry as if he were his own, which is why Iris was sure he was probably really hurting over what Barry had said. Barry probably didn't even know how much his words had hurt him. He often underestimated how much her father cared about him. He thought that Joe considered him to be a burden and a responsibility, but not really a son. Barry couldn't be more wrong.

Something was going on with him. Something really wasn't right. Iris found herself always hating this time of year simply because of how hard it was for Barry. She didn't blame him. She knew it wasn't his fault, and all she wanted was to just be there to help him.

Barry had friends, of course, and they were great guys. Camron and Matt made Barry feel normal. They didn't, however, know how to handle it when Barry got like this. Hell, they hardly even noticed it. They sometimes maybe noticed that something was a little off about him, but they didn't ever address it. That's what Iris and Joe were there for. They knew Barry better than anyone. They knew when he wasn't himself.

…..

Barry tried to ignore the weight of guilt in his chest as he climbed the stairs. He hated making Joe and Iris feel bad, and he wished that he hadn't said anything about his feelings to them. He didn't say what he did to hurt them. He was just growing more and more frustrated with the situation with his father.

It was like his father had given up all hope that he would ever get out of Iron Heights, and he wanted Barry to give up that hope too. Barry wasn't ready to do that. He didn't think he ever would be. He wasn't ready to accept that he didn't have a family anymore, at least not the one he wanted. He wanted his own family, and although he loved Joe and Iris, he didn't ever feel ready to fully accept them as his family because doing that would feel like dismissing his own. Doing that would make it real.

No, it was easier to think of himself as their guest or their charity case than it was as an adopted son. He was _Henry's_ son, not Joe's.

He was Henry's son.

Feeling more confused and weighed down by everything than ever, Barry climbed into bed, trying not to think about his fight with Joe, his conversation with Iris, his father rotting away in prison, his dead mother, his pile of unfinished homework downstairs, or the nightmares that were sure to haunt him tonight. Barry turned over in bed and sighed before sitting up and flicking on his bedside lamp. He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the little orange medicine bottle he kept there.

He held it in his hand for a moment, staring at the label.

 _Allen, Bartholomew  
Lorazepam 0.5mg tab  
Take one tab 3x daily as needed for anxiety_

Barry glared at the label, hating every word. It made him feel weak, like he was this fragile thing that would be overcome with hysteria if he didn't get his stupid pill. He tossed the bottle back into his nightstand drawer and turned off the light before laying back down again.

He didn't need it.

He didn't need to drug himself to be normal. He regretted self-medicating with alcohol the other night, and he vowed to himself that he wasn't going to do anything like that again. He wasn't weak. He didn't need medication. He wasn't a freak. He was normal, just like everybody else.

…..

Joe wasn't even in bed yet before he heard Barry's screams. Neither was Iris. It was only nine thirty. Iris was standing outside Barry's door when Joe got there. She was hesitating outside it, not sure if she should go in or not. For some reason, every time this happened, Barry didn't want her in there. Really he didn't want either of them in there, but he especially didn't want her. Iris didn't understand why that was, but Joe did.

Joe understood that Barry didn't want Iris to see any of this. He didn't want her to see him in that state because sometimes when Joe woke him from his nightmares he was a crying mess and it took a while for him to calm down. Barry didn't want Iris there as a witness to his embarrassing episodes. He didn't want her to know how bad it really was, didn't want her to know about the medication or any of it. He didn't want Iris to look at him differently.

"I've got him," Joe said to her. She stared at him with fear and worry in her eyes as Barry continued to scream.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking at the door.

"I can handle it," he assured her before cautiously entering the room.

"Please don't!" Barry sobbed in his sleep, "Please don't kill her!"

"Barry," Joe said, shaking the teenager's shoulder, "Barry, wake up."

"Don't!" he yelled, "Mom! No! Mom!"

"Barry!" Joe shouted.

"He's going to kill her!" Barry cried, "Please, he's going to her!"

Joe felt tears prickling in his eyes. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Barry had had to go through all of this and that he then had to go and relive it every night like this. He wondered if Barry's dreams showed him the truth. Maybe what made them so awful was the fact that his subconscious was trying to show him what really happened. Maybe he dreamed about what he actually saw that night, his father murdering his mother.

"Barry!" Joe shouted, shaking Barry harder, "Barry, it's not real! It's not real, son!"

Barry sobbed in his sleep, his face covered with tears that had leaked from his eyes.

"Mom," he cried, his breathing ragged and face screwed up in pain and sorrow, "Mom, please. Hold on. Don't die. Please, mom. Please don't leave me."

Joe felt sick to his stomach as he shook Barry's shoulder. He felt an internal battle within him, two powerful emotions at war with each other, fighting for dominance. Sadness for Barry, and anger towards his father.

Joe hated Henry.

He hated that bastard for doing this, for causing all this pain. He did this to his own family, to his own son. He had given Barry all this pain, and now Joe was here, trying to comfort him. _Joe_ was here. He was the one comforting Barry at night after his nightmares. He was the one who was helping Barry recover, helping him move past this. He was the one trying to repair the damage that Henry had caused. He was the one keeping Barry fed, keeping clothes on his back and a roof over his head.

He was the one who was raising Barry.

And yet, Barry longed for his real father. Barry wanted Henry, not Joe.

Joe didn't feel any anger towards Barry for this. If anything, it just made him hate Henry more. It wasn't enough that he had destroyed his family. He also had to continue playing these mind games with Barry. He had to manipulate the kid and keep him believing in him. He was intentionally inhibiting his own son's recovery, encouraging Barry's delusions. It made Joe sick with rage. He just wished Barry could see what he saw. He wished Barry could finally see things as the way they were, see his father for the monster that he truly was.

He wanted desperately to explain all of this to Barry, but he knew that would only push the kid away, maybe for good this time. Barry didn't want to hear the truth. He didn't want to accept the fact that his father was just using him. Joe didn't understand what Henry was really playing at. Was prison really that horrible or boring that he needed to ruin his son's life just to have someone visit with him once a week? Hadn't he already done enough to the poor boy by murdering his mother right in front of him?

"Mom!" Barry screamed, rousing Joe from his thoughts, "Mom, please!"

"Barry!" Joe yelled, shaking his shoulders harder.

Barry suddenly gasped and opened his eyes as he sat up in bed, looking around in confusion and pulling in huge gulps of air.

"Joe," he cried, tears streaming down his face.

Joe wrapped his arms around Barry and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"It's okay, Bar," he soothed, rubbing his back, "I've got you."

"He killed her," Barry sobbed, "I couldn't stop it."

"It's alright, Barry," Joe said, his voice cracking, "It's over now. He's locked up now. He can't hurt anyone ever again."

Barry suddenly pulled away from the hug, a shocked look on his face, which quickly turned into a glare. Barry's watery eyes narrowed at Joe.

"Get out," he gritted.

"Barry," Joe said painfully.

"Get out!" Barry yelled.

Joe slowly stood up from the edge of the bed.

"Barry," he said brokenly, "I just trying to help you see the—"

"I _know_ the truth!" Barry shouted, "Now, get out!"

Joe gave Barry a pained look. He reached out and tried to touch Barry's arm, but Barry yanked it away. Joe's breath caught in his chest, and he had to swallow back the painful lump in his throat. He slowly opened Barry's nightstand drawer and pulled out his medication bottle, setting it silently on top of the table. If Barry wouldn't let him comfort him, he at least hoped that it would help. Joe gave Barry another pained look before he turned silently and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Iris was still standing outside the door when Joe made it out to the hallway, and she had clearly heard the whole exchange.

"Should I try to talk to him?" she whispered sadly.

Joe just shook his head.

"No," he said quietly, "Don't go in there right now. He needs to be alone."

With that, Joe walked down the hall towards the bathroom to get ready for bed, ignoring the tears in his eyes.

…..

Barry rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes as he walked down the hall towards his next class. He hadn't even waited for Cam and Matt. Normally they walked to History together, but Barry didn't really feel like talking about Call of Duty or sports or whatever other trivial things Cam and Matt had been talking about at lunch. Really, he had barely heard a word of it.

He knew if he kept this up, Cam and Matt were bound to notice, but he didn't really care. They hadn't noticed so far. They never did. They were great guys, but they didn't understand Barry's family problems. They both had normal, nuclear families, and although they knew about Barry's past and the fact that he was foster kid, they didn't understand what all of it was like for him.

Barry was pulled away from his sullen thoughts when all of a sudden his books were scattering over the hallway floor. He had been carrying them in one hand by his side, and someone had come up behind him and roughly smacked them out of his grasp.

"You dropped something, Allen," Tony laughed as he passed by with his friends.

Barry glared at him and bent down to pick up his books.

"Here, let me help you with that," Tony said, stepping forward, "accidentally" kicking one of the books to send it skidding down the hall.

"Whoops," he said sarcastically, "Sorry."

Barry didn't say anything as he picked up his books. He didn't feel like coming up with some witty retort. He didn't feel up to any of this right now. As he was picking up one of his books, Barry's wallet fell out of his back pocket. Barry lunged for it, but he wasn't quick enough to grab it before Tony scooped it up.

Tony straightened and opened the wallet. Barry stood up and glared at him.

"Give that back," he gritted.

"One second," Tony sneered, as all of his friends laughed, "What have we here?"

Tony pulled a small card out of the wallet, and Barry paled when he saw it.

It was his Iron Heights visitors badge.

"Give that back," Barry said again, his voice a lot quieter and weaker now.

Tony just laughed.

"Why? So you can go visit your homicidal daddy?" he taunted, brandishing the badge.

Tony then held it up for everyone else in the hall to see.

"Look at this," he said to everyone, "Little Barry's spending some quality time with his sicko father. What? Is he teaching you his methods? Want to grow up to be a murderer just like your daddy someday?"

"Please stop," Barry said, tears forming in his eyes as he looked at the card in Tony's hand, staring at the small picture of himself on the badge.

Tony just laughed and tossed Barry's wallet on the floor in front of him. He pocketed the badge as he walked away, he and all of his friends still laughing. Barry took a shaky breath and bent down to pick up his wallet, his face burning as he tried to ignore all of the people who were still standing in the hall, staring at him.

Barry didn't go to his history class.

Instead, he went to the men's room, where he closed himself up a bathroom stall and let his tears fall.


	6. Becky Cooper

**Becky Cooper**

It didn't take long for what had happened to get back to Iris. One of her friends had been in the hallway and had seen the whole thing. She told her she had seen Barry duck into the bathroom. Iris was quick to leave her algebra class to find Barry, not even caring if she got in trouble for it. She knew he was supposed to be in his world history class right now, but when she went to the classroom and peered in the door window, it was to see that Barry's desk was empty.

She went to the men's room next.

Iris paused outside the door, listening, but she didn't hear anything. She couldn't exactly go in, but she figured she was already breaking one rule by being out of class. What was one more? Pushing her hesitation aside, Iris boldly pushed the door open and entered the boy's bathroom.

She was thankful when she found it to be empty. Well, _almost_ empty. One of the doors to the stalls was closed. Iris walked over to it nervously, hoping it wasn't someone else in the stall or this would be really awkward.

"Barry," she said softly through the door, "Are you in there?"

She heard someone sniff on the other side.

"Iris?" Barry's small voice replied, "What are you d-doing in here? This is the _men's_ room."

"Are you okay?" Iris asked, ignoring Barry's question.

Barry didn't answer at first, a long silence stretching out between them.

"You heard what happened?" Barry finally asked.

Iris sighed.

"Lauren told me," she said quietly, "Can you open the door? Please?"

"I really don't feel like talking right now, Iris," Barry sniffed.

"Well, I don't feel like talking to a door," she persisted, "Just open it, Barry. Talk to me."

"Please, just go away," Barry pleaded, his voice cracking.

"Don't make me crawl under this stall door, Barry Allen," Iris said seriously, "You know I'll do it."

Finally, the door opened. Iris gave Barry a small smile, but it fell quickly when she saw how red and puffy his eyes were.

"Why aren't you in class?" Barry asked her harshly.

"Why aren't _you_ in class?" Iris returned.

Barry sighed and wiped his face.

"Can you please just let me be alone right now?" he pleaded.

"Why won't you talk to me?" she asked desperately, "You used to always let me be there for you when Tony bullied you. What changed?"

"You don't understand, Iris," he said painfully, "You're popular. People _like_ you."

"People like you too, Barry," Iris said quietly, "And what do you mean, 'I don't understand'? Barry, you used to always be there for me when people made fun of _me_."

"That was back when you had glasses and braces," he argued, "As soon as you got contacts and got the braces taken off, you got popular. I didn't. I can't just change who my dad is, not that I ever would if I could."

"Barry…"

"I just want high school to be over," he said brokenly.

"Barry, you never cared what people thought of you before," Iris said gently, "Why do you care so much now?"

"It's not about _me_ ," Barry said seriously, "I don't _care_ what they think of me. It's the horrible things they say about my dad that I can't stand."

"They're just dumb high school kids, Bar," Iris said angrily, "What they think doesn't matter."

"And what do _you_ think?" Barry asked her suddenly.

"W-what?" Iris asked, taken off guard.

"What do _you_ think, Iris?" he asked again, his watery eyes boring holes through her, "What do _you_ think of my dad? Do you think he did it?"

"Barry," Iris said painfully, "You know what I think. Why are you asking me that?"

"Because sometimes I doubt whether you believe me," he said honestly, "Every time I bring up my dad, you avoid the subject."

"Barry…"

"Do you _really_ believe me, Iris?" he asked quietly, "Or do you think I'm crazy like the rest of them?"

"I don't think you're crazy," Iris said firmly, "I've _never_ thought that you were crazy."

Barry swallowed and looked at her with his watery eyes.

"And my dad?" he whispered.

Iris didn't know what to say. She _wanted_ to believe him, but she honestly wasn't sure what she believed.

"I don't know, Barry," she said softly.

Barry nodded and looked away from her, wiping his face.

"Okay," he choked, grabbing his books off the bathroom counter.

"Barry…"

"It's fine," he said stiffly, walking towards the door, "Thanks for your honesty."

She quickly reached out and grabbed his arm before he could leave, spinning him around to face her.

"Barry, you have to understand my side of it," she said desperately, "I want to believe you so badly, but on the other hand, I have my dad telling me other things. It's all so confusing, and when you ask me to decide what's the truth and what isn't, you're basically asking me to decide between you and my dad."

Barry pulled his arm from her grasp.

"I'm not mad at you," he said painfully, "I'm…sad, but I'm not angry, so don't worry. I'm used to people not believing in me."

With that, Barry turned and left the bathroom, leaving Iris standing there in numb shock.

…..

Getting through the rest of the school day was pure misery for Barry, especially when he had to go to gym class and face Tony and his friends. He hardly spoke for the rest of the day, and his classes passed in a blur; he hardly paid attention in any of them.

The only thing that Barry had to look forward to was his date with Becky tonight. He was extremely nervous for it, but at the same time, he was excited. He had never expected a girl like Becky to show any interest in him. She was beautiful and popular, and she was a _cheerleader_ , for crying out loud! Barry honestly didn't see what she saw in a scrawny nerd like him. Her last boyfriend, Mark, was a lot cooler than him. He was a basketball player, and he was a lot bigger than Barry.

He was popular.

Sure, Mark wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, and he could be dick at times, but he was still a lot cooler than Barry. The only people who liked Barry were the people who actually knew him. Becky didn't really know him that well, so Barry didn't understand what she saw in him. He didn't understand why she didn't think he was the nut job that people made him out to be.

Barry made sure Joe was in the kitchen when he tiptoed toward the front door. He was almost to the door when a voice rang out behind him.

"Where are you going, Barry?"

Barry turned to see Iris at the bottom of the stairs, looking questioningly at him. Barry quickly put a finger to his mouth to gesture her to be quiet.

"I'm going on my date with Becky," he said quietly, so Joe wouldn't hear from the kitchen, "Will you cover for me?"

Iris crossed her arms.

"We're grounded," she said seriously.

"I know," Barry replied, "Which is why I need you to cover for me."

Iris shrugged.

"Fine," she sighed, "But he'll find out anyways. He always does."

"Thanks, Iris," Barry said before quickly slipping out the front door.

Iris sighed after he left. She was glad he was going out on a date, but she wished it was with someone better than _Becky Cooper._ Sure, the girl was beautiful and all, and people liked her, but Iris always found her to be really shallow and petty. She was too shallow to really appreciate how amazing Barry was. She wasn't smart enough to understand his jokes and appreciate his dorky sense of humor. Most of it would be lost on her. Becky would take Barry for granted, which was something that was _not_ okay with Iris. She didn't want to see this girl toy with his emotions.

Iris didn't want to see her break Barry's heart.

"Hey, dinner's ready," her dad said, when she walked into the dining room, "Is Barry coming downstairs?"

"He's not feeling well," Iris lied instantly.

Her father sighed as he set the pan of pasta in the middle of the table.

"He left, didn't he?" he asked her seriously.

God, it was like her dad was clairvoyant! This would be when Iris would normally insist that Barry was home, but she didn't. Instead, she just sighed and let the pretense drop right away.

"Yeah, he went out," she said flatly, sitting down at the dinner table.

Her dad sighed and sat down too.

"Did he say where he was going?" he asked seriously.

"He went on a _date_ ," Iris replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

To her surprise, her father's face lifted, going from a frown to a smile in an instant.

"He did?" he asked happily, "With who?"

"Aren't you upset?" Iris asked in bewilderment.

Her dad shook his head.

"I wish he had just told me," he said, "He didn't have to sneak out. I probably would have let him go."

Iris blinked at him.

"But we're grounded," she said in confusion.

"I know," he replied, "But I would have lifted the punishment under these circumstances. I wish Barry had just said something. I didn't even know he was seeing anyone."

"Well, this would be their first date," Iris said dryly.

She didn't really know why she was so upset. She should be happy about this, the same way that her dad was. So, why wasn't she?

"Who's the lucky girl?" her dad asked curiously, and it was clear he was trying to contain his glee.

"Becky Cooper," Iris answered, her nose wrinkling.

Her father nodded and started eating his dinner, a smile on his face.

"Well?" Iris said, "Aren't you going to rush off to run a background check on her or something? That's what you did with Brandon for me last year."

Her dad laughed and shook his head.

"No, I'm not going to do that," he chuckled.

"Why not?" Iris asked angrily.

Her dad blinked at her.

"Because…I don't know," he said awkwardly, "It's Barry."

"So?"

"So, it's different with boys," her father said with a shrug.

"That is so not fair!" Iris said indignantly, "What if Becky is a total psycho?!"

Her dad raised his eyebrows at her.

"Iris, do you have a problem with Barry seeing this girl?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"W-what? No," Iris sputtered, "No. Of course not. I'm happy for him."

"You don't _seem_ too happy," he pressed, a small smile on his face.

Iris sighed and crossed her arms.

"I just think Barry could do better, that's all," she said.

Her dad sighed.

"I think this will be good for Barry, Iris," he said seriously, "It'll be a good distraction for him and help him get his mind off things."

Iris deflated a little bit then, her shoulders hunching.

"I know," she said quietly, "I just wish he was going out with someone who's actually going to appreciate him."

"Like _you_ do?" her father asked, a knowing smile on his face.

Iris gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Her dad just laughed and shook his head.

"Never mind," he chuckled.

…..

This wasn't necessarily Barry's first date—he had been on a few dates before—but he had never been in a serious relationship before. In the past, all of his relationships had just sort of fizzled out or hadn't really gone anywhere. Barry was nervous as he held the restaurant door open for Becky. He hoped this time everything would work out and it would actually turn into something more. He was tired of being alone all the time.

"Such a gentleman," Becky giggled as she walked through the door he was holding open for her, "It's nice to know chivalry isn't dead."

Barry smiled at her, his nerves lifting slightly.

It was a little awkward when they sat down at the table and picked up their menus. Barry always hated the awkwardness of a first date, but it was necessary to get through it to see if it leads anywhere.

"Yuck," Becky laughed as she looked at the menu, "I didn't know they served oysters here. That's disgusting!"

Barry laughed.

"You know, oysters are one of the most well-known aphrodisiacs?" he blurted, "It's because they're high in zinc, so men often spend tons of money to buy them for women in the hopes that they'll get lucky, which is really just stupid if you think about it because what on earth is attractive about slurping back oysters on a date?"

Barry's eyes widened then.

"Not that I'm—" he said quickly, "I'm not trying to—"

"Barry," Becky laughed, cutting off his rant, "It's fine. I know what you meant."

Barry let out a breath of relief, his cheeks tinting pink.

"So," Becky said, leaning forward with a small smile on her face, "I guess the rumors are true."

Barry's heartrate sped up.

"What rumors?" he asked nervously.

"That you're super smart," Becky giggled.

"Oh," Barry said, letting out a sigh of relief as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "I guess you could say that."

"It's refreshing," Becky assured him, "My last boyfriend wasn't too bright, wasn't much of a gentleman either. He never held doors open for me."

Barry blushed when Becky winked at him. Maybe this date wasn't going to be so bad, after all.

 **…** **..**

 **Just have to say, Barry's rant about oysters during the date is something I think I saw in a movie once. I want to say it was Easy A, but I'm not sure. Just throwing it out there that it came from somewhere else! It seemed like the kind of thing Barry would ramble about.**

 **AN: I'm putting this message on all of my stories. I now have a list on my profile that says which stories I'm currently working on and which ones are on hold. It's my attempt to be a little more organized for you guys because I always feel guilty about how sporadic my updates are. I hope it helps a little!**

 **Also, I need everyone's help with something!** **I've written a letter to the writers of the Flash, and I need help spreading the message so that it gets to them. If you have a moment, please look me up on Twitter at RedQ051 and see the tweet pinned to my profile. If you agree with what I say in my letter, please retweet it or share the letter on Facebook so that it can spread and eventually get to the right people. Although it's too late to change season 3, I strongly hope that my letter will be taken into consideration for season 4. Thank you!**

 **RedQ**


	7. Protective Sister

**Super short chapter, sorry!**

 **Protective Sister**

Iris was happy for Barry. She really was. It was nice to see his smile return, nice to see him taking interest in things again. Dating someone had provided him with a welcome distraction from all the darkness in his life, and he seemed a lot happier for it. Even the nightmares were becoming less frequent.

Iris just wished that _Becky Cooper_ wasn't the reason for it. The two of them had hit it off on their first date, which Barry had animatedly recounted to Iris in excitement. Iris had listened and smiled, but she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her gut that Becky was not going to be good for Barry.

She was glad to see that she had been wrong and that Barry was now so happy, having Becky as his girlfriend. She was his first real girlfriend, actually. Barry had had little flirtations here and there with different girls, but none of them had ever turned into a relationship. Until now.

And yeah, maybe Iris was a little jealous over the whole thing, but that was only because she felt like she was losing her best friend. It kind of hurt to know that she hadn't been enough to help Barry out of the darkness, that Becky had brought about this change in him and not her.

Regardless of the reason for it, though, Iris was just happy that Barry was starting to come back.

"I don't understand the point of flair," Barry said, frowning at his laptop, "Is that all that The Facebook is for?"

"It's just Facebook, Barry," Iris laughed as she sat down on the couch next to him, "There's no 'the'."

Barry frowned at her.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "I thought there was a 'the' before it."

Iris laughed and shook her head.

"Which goes to show how little you know about Facebook," she laughed, "What are you doing, anyways?"

"I'm setting up an account," he told her.

"Why?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "You've been trying to get me to sign up for it for months, ever since it was made public."

"Exactly," she said, "So, why did you suddenly decide to do it now?"

"Becky wanted me to create an account," he said with a shrug, "She said something about making us 'Facebook official', whatever that means."

Iris stared at him.

"Are you _serious_ , Barry?" she asked in frustration.

"What?" he asked confusedly, "What's wrong with that?"

"I've been bullying you for months to create an account, and Becky asks you _once_ and then you decide to do it?!"

"Hey," Barry laughed, "I still think it's stupid. I don't get the point of Facebook at all. Everyone has a Myspace account already."

"Whether you think it's stupid or not," Iris persisted, "It's still frustrating that you ignored me for months and then listened to Becky just like that."

"Well, she said we're technically not official until we're _Facebook_ official," Barry explained, "I don't understand any of this, but then again, I've never _really_ dated anyone before, so I'm taking her word for it."

Iris sighed in frustration.

"Besides," Barry reasoned, "You bully me into doing plenty of other things already. I'm about to watch this stupid movie with you right now, aren't I?"

"It's not _stupid_ ," Iris said indignantly, "I think it's going to be really good."

"It's on _Disney Channel_ , Iris," Barry deadpanned.

"That doesn't mean that it's not going to be good," she countered.

"What's this movie called again?" Barry sighed as she turned the TV on.

"High School Musical," she answered excitedly.

Barry groaned.

"I'll watch it with you on one condition," he said seriously, "None of the guys at school can find out about it."

"Deal," Iris laughed.

Barry was surprised when the movie turned out to be not that bad. He would never admit it, but he actually sort of _liked_ musicals, not that he considered himself particularly musically inclined. He had never even been in choir before, let alone a musical. The movie night would have actually been somewhat enjoyable had Iris not spent half the movie drooling over the actor in it. Barry didn't remember the actor's name. Zac something? It didn't matter. He was just a one-hit wonder. Give it ten years, and no one would remember his name.

…..

Iris's blood boiled as she sat on the couch next to her father, hardly seeing the TV screen.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Joe sighed, pausing their movie.

Iris looked at him.

"What?" she asked.

"You've had a scowl on your face all night," he said teasingly.

Just then, a high pitched giggle drifted down the stairs to where they were sitting.

"That," Iris spat, "That's what's wrong. I can't even hear the movie."

"I can hear the movie just fine, Iris," Joe said with a knowing smile.

"It's almost nine o'clock," Iris said, pointing at the clock on their living room wall, "Why is she even still here?"

"It's not that late, Iris," Joe chuckled.

Another giggle sounded from upstairs, and Iris ground her teeth at the sound.

"First she joins us for dinner, and now she's going to hang out at our house all night?" Iris said irritably, "She's been up there for hours, in _Barry's room_ , with the _door closed_. Isn't that against the rules?"

Joe chuckled.

""What exactly do you think he's doing?" he asked in amusement.

"He's a teenage boy," Iris said seriously, "And as his guardian, aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on him?"

"It's Barry, Iris," Joe said, shaking his head, "I don't think I need to be too concerned."

Iris's hands clenched into fists. She had half a mind to tell her dad about how Barry had been sucking face with Becky at Jake Preston's party, but she couldn't. She didn't exactly want to bring the whole party thing up again when her dad had finally started to forget about it.

"Besides," her dad continued, "They're just doing homework."

"Homework," Iris scoffed, "You know for a detective, you're pretty clueless."

"I'm more perceptive than you think, Iris," Joe said, giving her a knowing smile.

Iris couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of double meaning to her dad's words.

…..

Barry was used to getting stared at by his peers, but today it felt…excessive. As he walked down the hall on his way to lunch, people whispered and even went so far as to point at him. Barry was dumbstruck. He had no idea what was going on. Some people were laughing. Others were looking at him with _fearful_ expressions on their faces. He just had no idea why.

He was almost to the lunch room when he ran headlong into Iris.

"Barry," she said, her eyes widening in an expression that almost looked like fear.

She was quick to rearrange her facial features, though, and soon, a smile was plastered to her face.

"Want to get lunch off campus today?" she asked cheerfully, "It's two for one day at Bravo's."

"Iris, what's going on?" Barry asked quietly.

Iris's smile faltered slightly.

"Nothing," she said quickly, "I just didn't feel like eating cafeteria food today."

Barry gave her a scrutinizing look for a moment before sighing and walking past her to get to the cafeteria.

"Barry, don't go in there," Iris said desperately.

He turned back around and looked at her.

"Why?" Barry demanded.

"Let's just get lunch somewhere else today," Iris suggested, her eyes watering.

She looked like she was about to burst into tears. With a twisting feeling in his gut, Barry pushed open the door to the cafeteria.

"Barry, don't," Iris pleaded, but it was too late.

He was already walking through the doors. When Barry walked into the cafeteria, he froze in his tracks, standing by the door in shock. He hardly even noticed all the eyes staring at him. He hardly heard all the whispers echoing through the lunch room.

All he could see were the posters plastered all over the cafeteria walls.

Barry's own face stared back at him from what seemed like every surface in the room. It was a blown up photo copy of his Iron Heights visitor badge, and written under his ID photo, in large red letters:

BARRY ALLEN

MURDERER IN TRAINING


	8. I'm Not a West

**I'm Not a West**

"Barry."

Barry stared at the posters covering the lunch room, a dull ringing sound filling his ears as he stared at the bright red letters.

BARRY ALLEN

MURDERER IN TRAINING

"Barry."

A buzzing sound seemed to fill the large space of the cafeteria. Barry couldn't make out any of the whispered words being exchanged by his fellow students, but he really didn't want to. Their eyes on him were enough to make him want to disappear—to make him want to crawl into a hole and never resurface for the rest of his life.

"Barry!"

Barry turned his head to the side when he felt a light tugging on his arm. He looked blankly at Iris, his numb mind barely registering the heartbroken look on her face. She was speaking to him, but he couldn't even process her words. The next thing he knew, Iris was no longer in view and he was slowly walking towards the cafeteria doors. He could hear Iris calling out from behind him, but Barry kept walking, his mind on autopilot as his body moved towards the exit, trying to just get him the hell out of there.

When daylight broke through his haze and Barry realized he had made it out of the school, he somehow didn't feel any relief. He felt as if he might as well still be standing in that cafeteria. Barry picked up his pace as he walked down the sidewalk, trying to put as much distance between himself and his peers as possible. As soon as the tears finally started to fall, Barry broke into a run. He didn't care where he went. He just needed to get away.

Barry didn't know why he ended up at Iron Heights. He hadn't really intended to go there—or maybe he had. Or maybe he was just so used to that being his destination when he ran like this. Either way, Barry suddenly found himself standing outside the prison. He leaned his back against the brick building, gasping and trying to control his breathing as he slid down the side of the building until he was crouching, his elbows resting on knees.

He ran a hand over his face, brushing away the tears. Now that he was away from the school, he could finally take a breath and processed what just happened. It all kept replaying in his mind—the bright red letters, the buzzing whispers filling the cafeteria, all the faces staring back at him as he just stood there. Iris's pitying expression.

Barry didn't know what to do. He couldn't go back. Lunch ended in less than twenty minutes, and he was supposed to be back before then, but he couldn't. He simply couldn't set foot in that school right now. He didn't know where to go. He could go home, but sitting alone in the empty house was the last thing Barry felt like doing. He could go to the CCPD, but Joe wasn't really the one he wanted to talk to. Ironically, that person was his father.

If only his classmates could see him now, going straight to Iron Heights to visit his "murderer" father for comfort. Barry wiped his face quickly and stood back up. Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door and entered the Iron Heights visitor area, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

"Hey, Barry," Officer Gracie greeted him immediately, "What brings you here on a Thursday? Shouldn't you be in school right now?"

"Open campus lunch," Barry muttered as he approached the desk.

Officer Gracie laughed.

"You need to work on your lying skills, kid," he chuckled, "Playing hookie, huh?"

"It's a long story," Barry sighed, looking down at the desk, "Please don't tell Joe."

Officer Gracie just shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"You know it's illegal for minors to be truant from school?" he said lightly, "Walking into a prison full of cops…not your best move."

"School. Prison. What's the difference?" Barry said with a small twitch of his lips.

Officer Gracie laughed and shook his head at him again.

"Touché," he chuckled, "So, what are you doing here anyways?"

"I came to see my dad," Barry said, as if it were obvious.

The smile left the young officer's face then.

"Barry," he said seriously, "You know I can't let you do that."

"I know it's not Saturday yet," Barry said quickly, "But I figured you could maybe let it go, just this once?"

"Not without Joe's permission," the officer said sadly, "Your guardian only permitted you weekly visits. Unless you have Joe sign off on it, I'm afraid I can't let you in today. I'm sorry, Barry."

Barry sighed and looked down at the floor, a lump forming in his throat. The pure _wrongness_ of this entire arrangement never failed to make his blood boil. He was being denied seeing his own father. Barry looked up at the officer with watery eyes.

"Please," he whispered, "Please, Jim. He's my dad. Just this once, please let me see him. I really need to talk to him right now. I don't know who else to go to."

"Barry…" Officer Gracie said, giving him a pained look.

"I promise I won't tell anybody," Barry said desperately, "If you just do this for me, no one else will have to know."

"It'll be in the visitation record, Barry," the officer said regretfully, "And I'm a new CO here. You know how much trouble I could get in for letting a minor visit an inmate without their guardian's permission?"

Barry stared at him, not knowing what else he could say or do to change the other man's mind.

"Do you have a piece of paper?" Barry blurted suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you have a piece of paper and a pen that I could borrow?" Barry asked quickly.

Officer Gracie gave him a strange look before reaching over to the printer to grab him a blank sheet of paper and a pen.

"Thanks," Barry said shortly, and without another word, he walked out of the building.

He returned just a few minutes later, and Officer Gracie gave him a confused look as approached the desk for a second time. Barry slapped the piece of paper down onto the desk, and the young officer then picked it up to look at it and the writing that was now on it.

 _My foster son, Bartholomew Henry Allen, has my permission to visit with his father, Henry Allen on Thursday, December 14_ _th_ _, 2006._

 _—_ _Detective Joseph West_

"Barry," Officer Gracie huffed, setting the note down on the counter.

"I just ran into Joe outside," Barry said flatly, "He said I could see my father today."

"Barry, even if this was real, a note doesn't suffice," the young officer said, shaking his head, "Joe has to actually _be_ here for—"

"You're a new officer," Barry said seriously, "If it becomes an issue, just say you didn't know."

Officer Gracie gave him an uneasy look.

"How important is this that you see him today?" he sighed, "Can't it just wait until Saturday?"

"I need to see him _now_ ," Barry insisted, tears filling his eyes, "Please, Jim. You…you have no idea the kind of day I'm having. I need to talk to my dad."

Officer Gracie ran a hand through his hair.

"Barry, can't we just call Joe?" he suggested.

"You know what he would say," Barry said quietly.

The young officer let out a heavy sigh.

"Fine," he groaned, "I'll do this for you, but just this once, Barry. You understand?"

"Thank you," Barry said, relief washing over him, "Thank you, Jim. I can't tell you what this means to me."

"He's your dad," Officer Gracie said simply, "I understand. Just don't tell anyone I did this for you, okay?"

Barry nodded gratefully.

"Thank you."

…..

Iris didn't know if she should maybe call her dad. Or maybe she should just ditch school and try to find Barry herself. She had tried to follow him, but as soon as he was out of the building, he had broken out into a run. Iris had never been able to keep up with him.

She never really knew when he needed space and when he needed someone to lean on. Barry wasn't always the greatest at communicating what he needed. It was always a guessing game with him.

Iris sighed and walked back into the school, feeling sick to her stomach. Lunch was nearly over now, which she was grateful for. She didn't want to sit in this cafeteria any longer than she had to. Iris glared at the posters covering the walls. How could anyone do something so sick? Why would they want to hurt Barry like this?

"Is Barry okay?" her friend, Lauren, asked her when she sat back down at their table.

"I don't know," Iris sighed, "Bullying him is one thing, but this stuff with his dad…it's a low blow."

"You know it was Tony, right?" Lauren said seriously.

"I think _everyone_ here knows it was Tony," Iris said darkly, glaring across the lunchroom at Tony Woodward.

He was laughing and high-fiving his friends, celebrating their pathetic victory at tearing down the kindest person Iris knew. Iris wanted nothing more than to cross the lunchroom right now and smack that smug grin off Tony's stupid face, but she couldn't. Barry had made her promise countless times not to get involved when Tony or anyone else was bullying him. He said he didn't want her to become a "social pariah" too.

That term of Barry's never failed to bother her. What Barry didn't realize was that not _everyone_ saw him that way. A lot of people at school loved Barry and didn't believe all the rumors that circulated about him. Even now, Iris saw that she wasn't the only one shooting Tony dirty looks. While the majority of people were gossiping and buzzing with excitement over what had just happened, there were quite a few who looked just as disturbed by the prank as she was.

Iris's eyes burned with tears as she looked at all the posters around the room. She didn't know how much more of this Barry could take. They were only in their sophomore year of high school, and she didn't know if Barry could handle two more years of this torture. Barry was right. She _didn't_ know how it felt. Sure, she had been teased a few times when she used to have glasses and braces, but it was nothing compared to what these teenage assholes did to Barry. As if his family stuff wasn't enough, of course Barry's high school experience had to be hell on top of everything else.

Barry's whole _life_ had been hell, ever since he was eleven.

…..

"Barry…" his father said quietly.

Barry wiped his eyes and shook his head.

"I can't do this anymore, dad," he choked, "I can't keep going to a school where everyone is constantly calling you a murderer."

"Barry, they're just high school kids," his dad said reasonably, "You really think I care what they think? Don't worry about me. I've got thick skin. The only thing that worries me is how this is affecting _you_. Have…have you talked to Joe about what we discussed? About you changing schools?"

Barry shook his head.

"I don't want to run," he said quietly, "I _do_ have friends there, and a girlfriend…and Iris. I don't want to change schools."

"What about that other thing we discussed?" his father said gently, "About your name."

"I'm not changing my name," Barry said angrily, "I'm not doing that, dad."

"It might make things easier for you, Barry," his dad said gently, "You could take up your mother's maiden name, or even…even take 'West' as a last name."

Barry's eyes widened.

"I'm not a West," he said forcefully, "I'm an Allen, and that's not going to change. _You're_ my family."

"The Wests are too, Barry," his father said quietly, "You really can't see that?"

"I know they love me," Barry said painfully, "And I love them too. And I appreciate them letting me live with them, but…"

"It won't hurt me," his dad said quietly, "It won't hurt my feelings if you consider them your family, Barry. I _want_ you to accept them as your family. I don't want you to be alone."

"I'm not," Barry assured him, "I have them…and I have you, my _real_ family."

"You can have more than one family, Barry," Henry said sadly, "You don't have to give up one to have another."

"Yet you want me to renounce your last name," Barry said angrily, "You want me to become a West."

"I would still be your father," his dad insisted, "It wouldn't change anything."

"Yes, it would," Barry said stubbornly, "It would change _everything_."

"It would make things easier for you," Henry said painfully, "If people didn't know you were my son, you wouldn't have to face all the judgment and ridicule that you do now."

"I'm glad they know," Barry said firmly, "I'm not ashamed of you, dad. I'm _proud_ to be your son."

His father's eyes filled with tears at these words.

"You're a good son, Barry," he said quietly, "I can't tell you how proud I am of you. You've been so strong. So brave. I just want to make things easier for you. I don't want you to grow up like this."

"I'll be fine," Barry said, "I have you. And the Wests. And someday soon, you're going to be out of here, and we won't have any glass between us when we talk."

His father sighed and gave him a sad look. He didn't give him his usual lecture about letting it go, though. Instead, he put his hand up to the glass, and Barry gave him a watery smile before doing the same.

"I love you, son," his father choked.

"I love you too, dad."


	9. Talks

**Talks**

Barry tried his best to ignore all the worried glances Iris kept giving him, but it was difficult. She was looking up from her dinner plate every five seconds it seemed. He, however, just wanted to pretend like nothing had happened.

"Okay," Joe said, breaking the silence, "Are you two going to tell me what's going on?"

Barry and Iris both looked over at him.

"It's nothing," Barry muttered, looking back down at his dinner.

Iris sighed and didn't say anything. Barry had made her swear not to tell Joe about Tony's prank, and she had reluctantly promised she wouldn't.

Joe gave Barry a surveying look.

"Okay," he said slowly, "How about instead you tell me about the call I got from the school today?"

Barry looked up at him again, eyes wide. Had the school told him about the posters?

"You want to tell me why you were truant for half the day today?" Joe asked seriously, his eyes piercing into Barry.

Barry sighed and looked back down at his plate.

"No," he whispered.

"No, what?" Joe asked in a hard voice, "No, you weren't truant or no, you won't tell me?"

"Just tell me how long I'm grounded for," Barry said impatiently, still not looking at Joe, "I don't really feel like being interrogated right now, so just get it over with and give me my punishment."

Joe's eyebrows furrowed darkly at him.

"What?" he asked dangerously.

"I don't feel like playing your detective mind games," Barry said irritably, "I don't want to talk about it, so just punish me already."

"What has gotten into you?" Joe asked incredulously, "Barry, I know you're going through a hard time right now, but one thing that I will not tolerate in my house is attitude. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Why did you ditch school today?"

Barry ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, not knowing what to say.

"Dad," Iris said desperately, "Just let it go."

"Stay out of this," Joe said firmly to her, "I'm asking him, not you. If one of my kids is skipping school, I deserve an explanation for it."

"I'm not your kid," Barry muttered under his breath.

The angry look slid from Joe's face and morphed into an expression of hurt for a moment. It hardened again, though, as Joe continued to press him.

"Do you want to tell me where you were today?" he asked seriously, "Where'd you go when you were supposed to be in school?"

"Nowhere," Barry said stiffly, "I just went home."

Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"So, you didn't go to Iron Heights then?" he asked knowingly.

Barry took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking at Joe, a blank look on his face. He had fallen for one of Joe's most basic tricks: asking Barry a question that he already knew the answer to.

"You checked the visitation records," Barry said blankly.

Joe nodded, his expression dead serious, giving Barry his famous Joe West face of disapproval.

"You forged my signature, Barry," he said seriously, "You know you're only permitted one visit a week."

"Dad," Iris said in a strained voice, but Joe put up a hand to quiet her, staring a hole through Barry as he waited for him to say something.

"I'm not going to apologize," Barry said flatly, "If that's what you want me to do, you're going to be waiting a long time."

Joe's eyes flashed menacingly.

"Barry, I know I'm not your father," he said seriously, "But I _am_ your guardian, and believe it or not, I know what's best for you. This isn't you. Skipping school. _Lying_ to me. Breaking your visitation agreement."

Barry's hands clenched into fists in his lap.

"I don't give a damn about your stupid visitation agreement," he spat, "I only ever respected that agreement because my _father_ wanted me to."

Joe's mouth became a thin line as his nostrils flared.

"Go to your room," he said quietly then, "We'll talk about this later, and I expect the truth. The _full_ truth. Go to your room, Barry."

"Gladly," Barry gritted, standing up from his seat at the table.

Iris gave Barry a pleading look, but he just shook his head at her before exiting the room.

Joe let out a heavy sigh as soon as Barry left. He ran a hand over his face before looking over at his daughter.

"What do you know about this, Iris?" he questioned seriously, "What happened today?"

"Nothing," Iris whispered, looking away from him.

"What does he not want you to tell me?" Joe demanded, "Tell me right now, Iris. What did Barry do?"

"He didn't _do_ anything," Iris said angrily, "And maybe if you didn't always jump down his throat he'd be more open to telling you things."

"I'm not trying to be the bad guy here," he said firmly, "I'm just doing my job. This is what parenting looks like. Do you think I enjoy this?"

"Some parent you are," Iris said angrily, "Have you really not even noticed that Barry's hardly said a word all night?! That something's clearly _wrong_?! He's had tears in his eyes all afternoon!"

Joe's expression softened considerably as he considered her words. He gave Iris a serious look then.

"Tell me what's going on, Iris."

…..

Barry sat on his bed and stared at the wall. He knew he should have just told Joe what happened. Joe would probably be more understanding if he did. But he really didn't want to tell him. Not only was he embarrassed and just wanted to forget about the whole thing, but he also didn't want Joe to worry even more than he already was. He wanted Joe to think things were getting _better_ with him, not worse.

All Barry could really think about at the moment, though, was tomorrow. How was he going to walk back into that school? The posters had all been torn down, thanks to Iris, Cam, and Matt, but people weren't just going to forget about it in a day. Oh, God. What did _Becky_ think of it?! She had to have seen it. Was she embarrassed? Was she ashamed to be dating a "murderer's" son? She had already known about his dad, of course, but when she started dating him, she probably hadn't thought it would bring her this much negative attention. Barry flipped open his phone and checked to see if he had any messages or missed calls from her. There were none.

He had a bunch of texts and missed calls from Iris, Cam, and Matt, but none from Becky. He didn't know what to think about that.

Barry set his phone down and looked over to the door when he heard a quiet knock.

"Barry," Joe said quietly, slowly opening the door.

Barry sighed and looked away from him as he entered. Joe moved and sat down on the edge of the bed next him.

"Iris told me," he said quietly, "She told me about Tony's prank."

Barry looked at him then and opened his mouth to speak.

"I forced it out of her," Joe said quickly before Barry could say anything, "I used my… 'detective mind games' on her."

Barry sighed and looked down at his lap.

"Why didn't you just tell me, Barry?" Joe asked sadly.

"I don't know," Barry muttered, "I didn't want you to worry, I guess."

"You never used to hide the things Tony did from me before," Joe said gently.

"Yeah, well, that was when he used to beat me up," Barry reasoned, "I had no choice but to explain where I was getting the bruises and black eyes."

Joe nodded sadly.

"At least he's not beating you up anymore," he pointed out.

"I wish he was," Barry said, "That was easier. Publicly _humiliating_ me is so much worse than a punch to the face."

"This will blow over, Bar," Joe assured him, "People don't remember these things. It'll pass."

"It's high school," Barry said bitterly, "People remember _everything_."

Joe stared sadly at Barry for a moment, and Barry's hands clenched into fists.

"I know what you're thinking," Barry said in a strained voice, "You're thinking I brought this on myself."

"No, Bar," Joe said quickly, "I wasn't thinking that."

"Really?" Barry said skeptically, "You weren't thinking, just a little bit, that I brought this on myself by telling people my dad's innocent? By still continuing to visit him?"

Joe sighed.

"I know it's not your fault, Barry," he said quietly, "You never asked for any of this to happen to you. You…you believe your dad is innocent. Of course you would try to convince others of it."

Barry felt tears welling in his eyes.

"My dad really _is_ innocent, Joe," he said softly, "Just…just once I wish you would listen to me and hear me out."

Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face. He then looked at Barry with a sad expression on his face.

"I'm all ears, Bar," he whispered.

Barry's heart leapt. He hadn't been expecting those words to come out of Joe's mouth. Really, the only time Joe had ever listened to him was that night at the precinct when he was getting Barry's statement. There had been cameras and a table and other detectives present. Joe had never sat down, just him and Barry, and actually tried to hear Barry out.

"Okay," Barry said quickly, his heartrate picking up.

Joe was _listening_ to him!

"I've already told you about the man in yellow and about the lightning," he said quickly, "The lightning was surrounding my mother, filling our entire living room. It wasn't just in my head. My mom saw it, too. She told me to stay back."

Barry watched Joe's face closely, but it was unreadable. His expression remained neutral as he listened quietly. Barry could still see the wheels turning behind his eyes, though.

"My dad came downstairs then," he continued, "He grabbed me and shouted at me to run. The next thing I knew, I was twenty blocks from our house."

"You ran," Joe whispered.

"No," Barry said firmly, "I didn't run. Something grabbed me. There was a flash of light, and for a second, it felt like I was flying, and then I was suddenly on Roosevelt Street. And by the time I got back to the house…"

Joe sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. Barry waited anxiously to hear what he was going to say. He had told Joe all of this before, but it had always been in arguments. They had never sat down to _calmly_ discuss it.

"Barry," Joe said gently, "Can I tell you my interpretation of this?"

Barry nodded, his mouth dry.

"I mean it, Bar," Joe said seriously, "I've listened to you, and now I need you to listen to me."

Barry took a deep breath and nodded again.

"Okay," Joe said softly, "I think…you came downstairs and walked into the middle of an argument between your parents."

Barry opened his mouth to say something, but Joe held up his hand to silence him.

"Just hear me out, Bar," he pleaded.

Barry closed his mouth and nodded, tears filling his eyes. He knew where Joe was going with this, and it crushed him.

"I think your dad was in a rage," Joe said gently, "He was tearing the room apart, breaking things, and your mother told you to stay back."

Barry shook his head slowly as Joe was speaking, but he didn't say anything. He listened quietly the same way Joe had for him.

"Your dad lost control then," Joe said sadly, "His anger got the best of him and in a moment of rage, he stabbed your mother. I think you saw the whole thing, but it was too much for you. You say you just appeared on Roosevelt street, but I think you ran there, and somewhere along the way, your mind just…snapped. You were _traumatized_ , Barry. You had just watched one of your parents kill the other. It was too much for your young mind to handle, and your brain did what it could to protect you, to help you cope with what you saw. It blocked the memory and replaced it with something else."

Barry sniffed and wiped a tear from his face.

"It's called dissociative amnesia," Joe told him quietly, "It's very common with post traumatic str—"

"I don't have PTSD," Barry said firmly, "I'm not post traumatic, Joe."

"Barry," Joe said sadly, "You have all the symptoms. Nightmares. Anxiety….depression."

"I'm fine," Barry whispered.

"I've heard that before," Joe said sadly.

Barry knew instantly what Joe was talking about. In the entire first week that Barry came to live with them after his mother's murder, "I'm fine" had become his go-to statement. He had said little else.

"It's okay to not be fine, Barry," Joe said gently, "You've been through a lot. You don't have to be ashamed of your PTSD. It's normal for what you've been through."

Barry sniffed and wiped the moisture from his face.

"You're never going to believe me," he whispered, "Are you?"

Joe sighed and put a hand on Barry's knee. Barry just looked away from him, more tears falling down his face.

"Regardless of whether I believe you or not," Joe said firmly, "I'm still here for you, Bar. I love you."

Barry looked at him with watery eyes.

"I love you, too," he choked.

…..

Joe had been thinking over his and Barry's conversation a lot over the course of the weekend. He replayed in his mind all the things Barry had said, not just about his mother's case, but also with how he had responded when Joe mentioned his PTSD. Like always, Barry had been defensive about it, had tried to deny it, but he had stayed calm this time. There hadn't been any shouting. Tears, yes, but no shouting. No big argument. Barry had sat and listened to him calmly—maturely. It made Joe think that maybe now was the time to have another talk with Barry, a more important one. Barry seemed like he was finally open to it—he was ready—and Joe didn't want to miss his window.

Joe stood outside the door to Barry's room, hand poised to knock. Normally, it wasn't like this for him. Normally, he was able to walk confidently into the teenager's room and talk to him about whatever it was that was bothering him. Not now, though. Now was one of the few times Joe was nervous to have one of these talks. He'd honestly rather be giving Barry the sex talk again than have this conversation with him. Really, maybe he should do that instead. Give Barry a refresher of that talk since he had a girlfriend now. No. No deflecting. Joe was going to talk to Barry about the more pressing issue.

Going back to therapy.

Really, Joe was just nervous because wasn't sure how to bring it up again. He didn't know what to say to the boy. This time of year was always a very…fragile time for Barry. It was similataneously the perfect and the worst time to bring up therapy again. It had to be handled right. Joe didn't want to say the wrong thing, but he also couldn't say _nothing_. He and Barry had barely talked about what happened at the school this last week, and Joe was determined to not to run away from the issue.

And it _was_ an issue. Barry was trying to brush it off like it was nothing, but it was far from nothing. The bullying the boy faced on a weekly basis took its toll on him. It chipped away at his spirit. Normally, Barry dealt with it just fine, his optimism trumping any cruel things those kids could throw at him, but this time of year…

As Joe raised his hand to knock on the door, he paused again, not because of his nerves this time, but because of what he heard coming from the other side of the door.

 _…_ _Just singing in the rain_

 _What a glorious feelin'_

 _I'm happy again_

 _I'm laughing at clouds_

 _So dark up above…_

Joe sighed. This wasn't the first time he had heard Gene Kelly's voice coming from Barry's room, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Joe lowered his hand and didn't knock. He knew by now that this wasn't a good time. It was impossible to get through to Barry in these moments, and it was better to let him have them in peace. Joe sighed again and made his way down the stairs.

"Did you talk to him?" Iris asked as soon as he walked into the kitchen.

"No," Joe said sadly, "He was watching another musical."

"Barry's been watching musicals?" she asked quietly.

Joe nodded.

"He has been all weekend," he said sadly, "Yesterday, it was 110 in the shade."

Joe and Iris shared a silent look with each other. They both knew what it meant. Barry only watched musicals when he was missing his mother—when he was feeling sad.

"It's normal for him this time of year, Iris," Joe said quietly, "It's when he does it _other_ times in the year that we have to worry."

"You're right," Iris sighed, "I just don't like it. I don't like it when he gets like this."

"After everything he's been through, it's completely normal for him to get depressed sometimes," Joe said reasonably, "And after what happened at school the other day…"

"You're not going to make him go to school tomorrow, are you?" she asked, "Can he skip again, like he did on Friday?"

"I already gave him the option," Joe told her, "He said he wanted to go."

Iris sighed.

"I suppose that's a good thing, right?" she asked sadly.

"It is," Joe said, "At least he's trying to face everything head on. He's not trying to hide from it."

"No, he's just hiding from _us_ ," Iris said bitterly, "He's been in his room all weekend. He wouldn't even talk to Becky when she finally stopped by."

"This will pass, Iris," he assured her, "It always does."

"Yeah, but I just wish he didn't have to go through it every year _at all_ ," she said sadly, "There has to be more that we can do for him."

"Well, I…I found this new doctor…" Joe said gently.

"Don't," Iris said seriously, "Dad, please don't do that to him. How many shrinks are you going to make him see before you realize it's _not_ good for him?"

"I don't know what else to do," Joe said sadly, "He needs to talk to _somebody_ , Iris, and he's not talking to _us_."

"And you think forcing him into therapy is going to make him trust you and want to talk to you?" his daughter asked angrily.

"I think if he would just give it a chance it would help," he said surely, "He can't keep going through this cycle, Iris. If it's not the anxiety, it's the depression. One is always replacing the other, and I just want to see Barry happy."

"I do, too," she assured him, "But this isn't the way. Making him feel like he's damaged is only going to make him _more damaged_. If Barry goes back into therapy, it has to be _his_ choice, not yours."

"Barry will never _choose_ to resume therapy," Joe said sadly, "Even if he thinks he needs it, he won't go."

"Because he doesn't want to feel like he's crazy," Iris said quietly, "Dad…you're always _constantly_ telling Barry he's crazy."

"I have _never_ said that to him," Joe said defensively.

"You may as well have," Iris said angrily.

"Well, what do you want me to do, Iris?" Joe asked impatiently, "Pretend I believe him about his dad? _Encourage_ his delusions? I'm not trying to make Barry feel crazy. I'm not trying to put him down. I just want him be healthy. And locking himself in his room watching musicals all day is _not_ a healthy thing to do. I don't like the thought of sending him to some shrink any more than you do, but Barry needs to talk to somebody, and I'm not a therapist."

"Barry doesn't need you to be his therapist," Iris countered angrily, "He needs you to be his dad."

"He doesn't _want_ me to be his dad!" Joe nearly shouted.

Iris gave him a pained look, and Joe took a deep breath before speaking more calmly.

"Barry doesn't want to accept us as his family," he said quietly, "And I get that—I really do. It just…"

"It hurts," Iris said sadly.

Joe nodded.

"I'm doing my best," he said quietly, "I'm doing everything I can for him, but the truth is…I don't always know what to do. I'm not equipped for this. Barry is…special—in more ways than one—and I'm just a single father. I…"

"Do you regret taking him in?" Iris whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

" _No_ ," Joe said firmly, giving her a dead serious expression, " _Never._ Not once have I _ever_ regretted taking that boy in. It was the best decision I made in my life, and I would readily make it again."

Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"It's just…it's hard," he said, "I don't want to mess this up. I don't want to say or do the wrong thing that's going to make him worse."

"Then don't do this," Iris begged, "Don't force therapy on him again. _Please._ "

Joe let out a heavy sigh.

"I have to," he said in resignation, "I would be a horrible parent if I didn't."

"Dad," Iris pleaded, her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm going to do it right this time," Joe assured her, "I'm going to talk to him the right way about it, not just force it on him like I have in the past. I read in a book about PTSD—"

"Not those stupid _books_ again," Iris said angrily.

Joe frowned at his daughter.

"Listen," he said seriously, "I know every situation is different, Barry's in particular, but the books aren't completely useless. Barry's special, I know, but he _does_ have a lot in common with the kids mentioned in the books I've been reading. There are a lot of different ways people handle different types of trauma, especially with traumas that happened when they were young."

"What's your point?" Iris demanded.

"My point," he sighed, "Is that I'm not as clueless about this stuff as you think. I've read up on it. I see traumas every day through my work. I'm not saying I know everything, but I _do_ know that Barry needs to be in therapy if he's ever going to move past this and live a healthy life. I know you don't like it, and I certainly don't like it either, but it's the right move. I'm the father here, Iris, and it's my call to make."

"He's going to hate you," Iris said quietly, tears spilling over, "You're going to make Barry hate you, dad. He's always going to resent you for this."

"Maybe," Joe said sadly, "But it's what's best for him, and one day he'll thank me for it."

…..

 **I hope the PTSD stuff didn't seem too forced. I had to post this today, though. Today's the anniversary of my own trauma—four years—and it seemed appropriate. I was diagnosed with PTSD over a year ago, and I can say from experience, it's not an easy diagnosis to accept, especially when you're just trying to move on. Everyone else is only trying to help, and I get that, but it's a little hard to move on from everything when everyone's constantly trying to tell you how broken and not okay you are. It just seemed fitting to apply the situation to teenage Barry.**


End file.
